


Our Endless Numbered Days

by hapakitsune



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Cancer, Drug Use, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can’t change your situation. The only thing that you can change is how you choose to deal with it. Or, the one where Mark has cancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Endless Numbered Days

The call comes in the middle of a busy day at work. Eduardo only answers it because he hates checking his messages, intending to just brush the other person off and get back to work. 

"Hello, Eduardo Saverin," he says, sliding back from his computer and cracking his neck. He rubs the back of his head and waits for the other person to respond. "Hello?"

"Don't hang up," the voice on the other end says. It's vaguely familiar and pings something negative in the back of Eduardo's mind.

"Who is this?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. "Is this a prank?"

"No, it's – I'm only calling because I think I have to, he'd kill me if he knew I was doing this." 

"Who _is_ this?" Eduardo repeats, getting ready to hang up. "Get to the point."

"This is Sean. Sean Parker. Don't hang up, Eduardo, I need to tell you something. About Mark."

Eduardo, who had indeed been about to throw the phone down, says, "What about Mark."

"Mark, he – he needs you." Sean actually sounds _pained_ , which shocks Eduardo enough that he stays silent for a moment. 

Then he asks, "Why?"

Sean sighs noisily and says, "Mark has cancer."

 

It starts with a pain in his back. 

Mark doesn't think anything of it at first; he's always having back problems from working long hours in chairs that aren't really designed it, from sleeping sprawled on his stomach or twisted in bizarre starfish shapes. That had gotten on Sam's nerves, because Mark kicks in his sleep and isn't naturally inclined to cuddling. 

Then he starts to get the night sweats, shuddering awake with his skin damp and cold and sticky. He does his sheets himself so that his maid doesn't see when she comes by; she already worries about him enough, constantly telling him that he needs to eat more vegetables and that he should sleep more. Mark likes her despite that, because she's funny and sweet and reminds him of a Persian version of his own mother. 

At work, Laura, Chris's replacement, notices Mark stretching and wincing while she's waiting for him to sign some papers and suggests he sees a doctor. Mark ignores her, but finds an appointment waiting on his calendar for the following Friday anyway. 

"I don't need a doctor's appointment," he tries to tell Laura, who shakes her head and says, "I've seen how you've been taking those Advil, Mark."

Mark thinks about the mostly empty bottle sitting in his top drawer and shakes his head in resignation. "Okay," he says. "Fine."

He takes himself to the doctor on Friday, where goes through a series of inconclusive tests before finally they give him an MRI. He lies in the machine, staring upwards and wishing he could just go home. The nurse lets him out after they're done and he gets dressed again to wait for the doctor to come back in.

It takes her longer than the five minutes the nurse promised, not that Mark is surprised by that, but his instinctive biting comment is lost when he sees the look on her face. 

"Mr. Zuckerberg," she says, and she actually sounds genuinely sorry when she says, "You have a growth on your spine."

It takes another two trips to the hospital for them to determine that it's a malignant tumor and Mark sits through the last one with his hands clenched tightly in the pocket of his hoodie, trying to take in everything she's telling him. "Chemo is going to be extremely unpleasant," she says, "but it's necessary if we're going to remove the tumor –"

– and then it hits him, real and sudden and undeniable. It isn't just a pain in his back, it isn't just a few sleepless nights. He sits there, staring at the wall to the left of her head, and tries to listen to what she's saying, but only takes in things like _pain_ and _uncomfortable_ and _uncertain_. 

"It's only going to get worse from here, isn't it," Mark says flatly when she finishes, and Dr. Jacobs sighs. 

"I'm afraid so," she says. "We have an excellent team of therapists who deal with cancer patients. I can make you an appointment if you're interested."

Mark shrugs. Dr. Jacobs makes a note in Mark's chart and then pulls out a card. He takes it, fingers remarkably steady, and says, "Thanks."

He spends most o f his drive back to the Facebook offices trying not to think too much. He's sure there are things he should be doing, people he should tell – but right now he just wants to keep the information to himself, safe from everyone else. Something must show in his face, though, because his head of programming asks, "What's up, boss? You look like hell."

"Nothing," Mark mutters, and he goes back to his desk, turning the business card over in his fingers thoughtfully. After a moment, he puts it down and calls Sean. 

It isn't exactly therapy, but it's kind of nice just to go out and get drunk with Sean. Sean has this really hilarious obsession with fruity cocktails and keeps ordering strawberry margaritas for Mark. "It'll make your lips red, you can pick some guy up," Sean says when Mark asks why. 

Mark rolls his eyes, feeling pleasantly loose and relaxed. "I'm not going to pick anyone up."

"Oh, come on, Mark," Sean says. "It's been, what, three months since Sam dumped you?"

"Four," Mark says, shrugging. "It's not about that, Sean."

"What, you don't like having sex?" Sean leans forward, his own glass of neon blue drink sloshing a little. "How long has it been since someone fucked you, Mark?"

"Sean, I'm not looking for anything right now," Mark says. "I don't want to get involved with anyone."

"I'm not saying you _marry_ the guy. Just pick someone up, it isn't that hard." Sean clinks his glass against Mark's. "Go find someone to fuck."

"I don't want to," Mark snaps, temper rising. "Leave _off_ , Sean."

"What the hell is wrong with you tonight?" Sean demands, brow creasing. "You've been acting weird since I picked you up –"

"I have cancer," Mark says. He doesn't mean to say it – he just wants to tell Sean to fuck off – but it slips out anyway, unbidden, and he takes a bitter, vicious pleasure in the way Sean starts back, his mouth falling open in a silent _o_ of shock.

"What?" Sean asks faintly, his voice hoarse. "You're – you're kidding. Mark, tell me you're kidding."

Mark looks down at his drink and says, "No."

"You have _cancer_?" Sean asks. "What kind? Shit, am I allowed to ask that?"

"It's something with a lot of syllables," Mark says, shrugging. "I don't remember. But I have a tumor on my spine."

"On your _spine_?" Sean parrots. "Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck, that's really not good, is it?"

Mark rolls his eyes. "I don't think there is a _good_ kind of cancer."

"No, but, I mean – what are your chances?" Sean asks. "You said it's a tumor, so it isn't like skin cancer when they can just zap that shit off." He takes a huge swallow of his drink and shakes his head. " _Fuck_."

"The doctor said that it depends on how I respond to the chemotherapy, but it's pretty much fifty-fifty." Mark laughs, trying to keep it light, but it sounds horribly false and choked. "I guess I should start making plans, huh."

"Shut up," Sean says fiercely, reaching out to grab Mark's shoulder. "You're young, you're rich. You're not going to fucking die."

"I don't think cancer gives a shit if I'm rich," Mark says. He regrets it when Sean's expression goes dark. "Sean, there's nothing I can do."

"Fuck," Sean says again, like punctuation. He runs his hand through his hair, seeming not to care that this causes it to stand on end, then finishes his drink in one long swallow. "What did your parents say?"

"I haven't told them yet," Mark admits quietly. "I haven't – I only just found out. Today. And you _can't tell anyone_ , okay?"

"Yeah, press, stockholders, whatever," Sean says vaguely. "Fuck, I need another drink."

"I don't want people to know," Mark says. "I didn't mean to tell _you_. I don't want people looking at me – like _that_ ," he says accusingly as Sean's face takes on this insultingly pitying expression. 

"You have to tell them eventually," Sean says, wrenching his face back into its normal configuration with visible difficulty. "Even Steve Jobs couldn't hide it forever."

"I know," Mark says. Sean is starting to make the anxiety that Mark has been suppressing ever since he left the hospital bubble up again. He drinks some more of his margarita and settles back in his seat. "But this is my thing."

"And mine," Sean says sharply. "You're not doing this without me, Zuckerberg."

"Okay?" Mark says, frowning. "You don't have to –"

"Shut up, don't be a moron." Sean reaches out to punch Mark's arm. "I'm going to get us more booze. You need to call your parents."

Mark shakes his head, but pulls out his phone and makes his way towards the exit so he can call his mom. Predictably, she cries and insists that she's coming out to see him, then passes him to his dad, who is brusque and eventually says, "You need to call your sisters."

And Mark really doesn't want to, but he does anyway because he loves them and it wouldn't be fair for them to find out some other way. He slumps against the wall as he calls them each in turn, finishing up with Randi who is silent for a long, long time before saying, "What are you going to tell the people at work?"

"I don't know," he says. "I guess I should find someone to – in case –" He slides down to the sidewalk and pulls his knees up to his chest. "I don't suppose _you_ want to come back."

"Not a chance in hell," Randi says. Mark snorts and listens to her breathe for a moment, missing her suddenly with a sharp pang in his ribs. "Mark, you know I love you, right?"

"Don't," Mark says, squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't need you to say that. This is why I didn't want to tell anyone."

"And if you need anything," Randi continues, ignoring him, "I'm still around for you. Even if I don't work for you anymore, you're still my favorite little brother."

"I'm fine," Mark says, the lie coming easily. "But – thanks. I guess."

Sean finds him there five minutes later, still sitting on the sidewalk with his phone abandoned on the pavement next to him. Sean crouches down next to him and pokes Mark in the shoulder until Mark looks over at him. His jaw is clenched so tightly that it's beginning to hurt, and his eyes are burning like he's been staring at his computer for too long. 

"Come on," Sean says, and his voice is so gentle that Mark wants to hit him. "Come on, Mark, let's get you home."

 

Mark has his first therapy session the next week, and he slinks in reluctantly, wishing he had just said no to Dr. Jacobs. There is a young woman, no older than he is, sitting on an armchair and eating a power bar while reading from a chart. Mark clears his throat, and she jerks up, startled. 

"Oh, sorry," she says, blushing. "Is it two already? Sorry, I'm – hi, I'm Victoria. You must be Mark."

"Yeah," Mark says, sitting down on the couch. "That's me."

"I was just reading your chart," she explains, setting her power bar on her desk and flipping the chart shut. "Dr. Jacobs already told me what your condition was, but I like to look for myself."

Mark waits for her to get to the point. When it doesn't seem like she's going to, he says, "I was a psych major in college."

"Oh!" she says. "So are you – what do you do, then? Do you work in psychology?"

Mark stares at her blankly. "What?"

"You have a job, don't you?" she asks, now looking confused. "Unless –"

"No, I have a job," Mark says. "I –" He hesitates before deciding to just tell her the truth. She has google, it would be stupid not to just be honest. "I'm the CEO of Facebook."

"Oh," she says again. "Well, that would explain the non-disclosure agreements I had to sign."

"I didn't send any non-disclosure agreements," Mark says. 

"Well, someone did." Victoria reaches for a leather satchel and produces a small sheaf of paper. "Here."

On the top of the papers is a post-it with Sean's messy half-caps handwriting, reading, _sign these please_.

"I mean, I couldn't talk about it anyway," Victoria is saying while Mark stares at the note, wondering how Sean had even managed it. "Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that. But I understand."

"Sean did this," he says without meaning to. "I can't believe –" He touches the post-it note and blinks hard. 

"Who's Sean?" Victoria asks in the same tone Mark's mother always used when she was trying to psychologist him into revealing a secret. 

"My friend," Mark says. "Maybe – I guess he's my best friend now." Mark isn't actually sure when that happened, when Sean moved from being _the guy who founded Napster_ to _that fuck-up that Eduardo hates_ to just _Sean_. "He's the only one who knows about – about the cancer."

"Good," Victoria says absently. "You're saying the word cancer. You'd be surprised how many people can't, this early." She looks up and squints at Mark. "What did you mean, he's your best friend _now_?" 

"I don't want to talk about that," Mark says, looking away. He wonders what Eduardo would say now if Mark called him and told him that he had cancer. It's weird; he hasn't thought about Eduardo much over the last few years, just the occasional familiar pang around Eduardo's birthday or the anniversary of Facebook's creation. "It has nothing to do with the cancer."

"All right," Victoria says easily. "Do you think you're ready for the chemo? When do you start?"

"Next week," Mark says. He squeezes his hands between his knees. "It'll be fine."

 

In the days following Mark's confession, Sean does enough research on cancer to get into med school. He ends up having to smoke up just to deal with some of the shit he reads, and he sits curled up in Amy's battered bean bag with one of her giant biology textbooks in his lap, eating her cookies. 

"Are you ever going to tell me why you needed my textbook?" Amy asks from where she's pretending to study on her bed; Sean can see the reflection of her computer screen in the window behind her and she's definitely on Facebook. "I don't hear from you in nearly a year, and then you show up asking for my biology textbook from _freshman year_ –"

"You're the only person I know who would have kept it," Sean says absently. "And I can't tell you why I need it."

"Are you trying to figure out how babies are made?" Amy asks with a sly grin. "Please tell me you didn't impregnate some poor girl."

"It has nothing to do with babies," Sean says. "I wanted a simpler explanation for something, that's all."

Amy leans off the bed, trying to get a look at the book. He does his best to hide it from her, but she says, "Cancer? Why do you want to know about cancer?"

Sean tries to think up a good lie and eventually settles on, "I've been asked to invest in a company that does cancer research."

"Did you know that your voice goes higher when you're lying?" Amy asks. "I only know because you lie to me so often."

"I'm hurt, Amelia," Sean says, clutching his chest. "I would _never_ lie to you."

"And that's a lie too," Amy says. "Fine. It's your business, I understand if you can't tell me."

Sean trails his finger over the section on chemotherapy and wishes that Mark hadn't told him, wishes he didn't have to be the one to carry his secret. He doesn't want that responsibility; it's too much. Mark – Mark is _dying_ , has barely even chances at making it out alive and Sean –

Sean doesn't want to have to be there for it.

But he's the only one that Mark has, he knows that. Eduardo is long gone, Chris is off living the happily engaged life, Dustin has his own company, and Mark's entire family is on the other side of the country. Mark never trusted many people to begin with, and now, apparently, that small number has been whittled down to just Sean. He isn't sure whether he should be smug or angry about that. Were it anyone else, he would have been on the first flight to Europe to spend a few months giving Gawker something to talk about, but it's Mark. Mark is the only one who trusts him anymore.

"I can't tell you," Sean says finally, truthfully. "I'll let you know when I can."

"If you have any questions," Amy says, not looking up from her computer, "you can ask me. My dad had cancer when I was thirteen."

Sean stares at her for a moment; he's known Amy for years now, far longer than he's known almost anyone, but their relationship has always been pretty superficial. They have fun together, but they never really _talk_ , not about their families or anything more personal than complaints about dating. Sean doesn't even know if Amy has any brothers or sisters. She's mentioned her parents before and he knows a few things from context, but she has never just confessed something like this, out of the blue. 

Sean looks down at the _side-effects_ heading and asks, "Is it true that weed makes the nausea less severe?"

"Finally found a legitimate way to use your drugs?" Amy quips, lips quirking up in a smile. "My dad never did, but he knew others who smoked and they said it helped."

"Cool," Sean says, snapping the book shut. "In that case, I have some illegal substances to buy."

"Have fun," Amy says as he gets up to leave. "Try not to get arrested."

"Kiss for luck?" Sean asks, because it's always worth a try. He grins when Amy flips him off in response, and he slides out the door, already dialing his phone.

 

Mark takes himself to his first chemotherapy session and is put in a room with three other people, two of them older and one of them a young girl that looks no older than sixteen. She smiles at Mark and says, "First time?"

"Yeah," he says warily. He tries not to wince as the nurse slips the needle beneath his skin and he leans back against the chair. "How bad is it?"

"It depends." She points at her long brown braid and says, "I'm lucky. My hair has mostly remained intact."

Mark unconsciously runs his free hand through his own hair and wonders what he would look like bald. "That's good, I guess."

"They always tell you to look on the bright side," the girl says with a wry smile. "I'm Hazel."

"Mark." He frowns at her. "How old are you?"

"Don't do that," she says, smile turning sharp. "Don't pity me."

"I –" Mark shakes his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I'm used to it." She shrugs and looks away. "It just sucks, being the cancer girl at school. Sometimes I wish I hadn't told anyone about it. Everyone always acts like I'll keel over if they breathe on me wrong."

"I haven't told anyone, really," Mark says. "My family knows, and my – my friend Sean."

The girl smiles. "That's probably a good plan. I'm Hazel, by the way. I guess we're going to be chemo buddies now."

"I'm Mark," he says. "I can't – please don't tell anyone about me?"

"Why would I?" Hazel asks. She doesn't wait for an answer, groaning as she opens up the book on her lap. "You know what the worst part of this is? I still have French homework. I'm bad enough at it as it is, I don't need to be hanging over the toilet while I'm trying to conjugate verbs." She mutters

"I'm pretty good at French," Mark says after a minute. "I can help you, probably."

She looks at him and raises her eyebrows. "Really? It'll be really boring"

"We're here for four hours, aren't we?" Mark shrugs. "That's a long time to do nothing."

"Okay," she says. "So tell me about subjunctive, because I always fall asleep when the teacher starts talking about that."

He snorts despite himself and says, "Okay. What can you teach me?"

Hazel thinks for a moment, tapping her chin with the end of her pencil. "I make some bitchin' pancakes."

"Sounds like a deal." Mark holds out his hand without the IV. She awkwardly shakes it with her own free hand and shoves her textbook over towards him. 

"Okay," she says. "So explain to me what subjunctive means."

He finds himself actually enjoying teaching Hazel, who is bright and funny, even if apparently she is absolutely terrible at memorization. When they finish with her French homework, she moves on to reading celebrity gossip magazines and explaining to him who everyone is, segueing into ramblings about her friends. 

"How did they take it when you told them?" Mark asks her when she stops for breath. "About –" He gestures around the room. 

Hazel smiles, a little sadly, and says, "Like champs. Better than I did." She scratches the back of her head. "They've been great, it's just everyone else who has been kind – overwhelming." 

Mark nods. "Yeah."

There's a brief, tense silence, and then Hazel forces a grin and reaches over to poke him. "So tell me about your friends. You have friends, right?"

"Hey," Mark says feelingly, but can't quite help smiling back. "Sure, I'll tell you about Sean."

Naturally, Hazel finds the stories about Sean to be fascinating, which is roughly how Mark probably would have felt at her age. He has just finished telling her a story about Sean in Reno when the nurses come by to take out their IVs. Mark stands up while Hazel gathers her things and says, "It was, uh, nice. Meeting you."

Hazel grins and says, "You too! See you next time." She waves and leaves, probably to go be driven home by one of her parents.

Mark drives himself home, feeling drained and exhausted. When he pulls up into his house, it takes him ten minutes to drag himself out of the car and up the stairs into his house. He doesn't even bother trying for the stairs, just goes to lie on the couch. 

He lies there for a long time before his phone buzzes in his pocket. He shifts laboriously to reach for it and raises it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey," Sean says. "I have something for you. Come open the door."

"I can't," Mark says. "The spare key is in the rock under the fern, let yourself in."

"Oh, okay." There's a pause while Sean is presumably rummaging around at the base of the fern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Mark says. "I'm just – really tired."

"Right, the book said that would happen," Sean says. Then he adds, "Aha! Found it. I'll be inside in a minute."

Mark lets the phone fall from his hand and hears the sound of the front door unlocking. He claws at the pillows to pulls himself upright and he slumps sideways as Sean appears in the doorway to the living room. "Hey," Mark says, waving a little. 

"Dude," Sean says, "you look awful."

"Thanks. I thought you were here to give me a gift, not insult me." Mark watches Sean pace a little. "What is it?"

"Maybe you should eat something – wait, no you shouldn't," Sean says – babbles, really. "Obviously you shouldn't eat, it causes nausea –"

"Sean, could you just sit the fuck down?" Mark swallows dryly. "Or get me a glass of water. I have to take some pills."

"I can do that!" Sean says, and he hurries out of the room. Mark shifts so he can rest his elbows on his knees, breathing through his nose and feeling exhaustion in every bone in his body. He just wants to lie down and never get up again. 

Sean comes back out with a glass of water and sits down next to Mark. "Hey," he says, nudging his shoulder. "Come on, here."

"Thanks," Mark mutters, reaching out for the glass. He pulls the pills out of the Ziploc bag in his pocket, and he swallows them with a sip of water, then drinks the rest of it in one long gulp. "You don't need to do this, you know."

"Whatever," Sean says. "Here, here's your gift."

Mark looks over and sees that Sean is waving a bag of pot. "You're kidding."

"The nausea is going to set in," he says. "I've done a lot of reading."

"You've done a lot of reading," Mark repeats, and he has to look away so that he doesn't do something stupid like hug Sean. It's such a _best friend_ thing, he thinks. It's something Eduardo would have done. "Thanks, I guess."

"I am the most awesome friend, shut up," Sean says. "Now are we going to smoke this or what?"

 

There are some things Sean doesn't want to ask Mark about. He doesn't ask about what's going to happen to Facebook or if he's updated his will or if he's talking to his family. Mark is an adult; he can take care of himself. And those are the things that Mark recognizes as being important, the ones he _will_ take care of on his own. 

The one thing that Sean does ask is whether he's told anyone else. It's Mark's prerogative not to tell anyone, Sean acknowledges that, but when Mark admits that he hasn't even told Chris or Dustin, Sean just – snaps. 

Mark is a stubborn asshole. It's one of the things Sean has always admired about him, but when it comes to things like _fucking dying_ and not telling his friends about it, Mark is just being stupid. 

Sean has to bribe Laura with tickets to the Forty-Niners before she'll give him Chris's number, and even then she says, "It's only because I know there's something going on with Mark."

"Keep an eye on him," Sean tells her, and he reaches for a pen as she recites the number for him. 

He already has Dustin's number, and after a few minutes of debate, he eventually decides to call them together, just so that he only has to do it once. He's lucky; he manages to catch both of them at a free moment, although Chris sounds harried and annoyed when he picks up. 

"Hey," Sean says, and Dustin adds, "Hi, Chris!"

"What's going on?" Chris asks. "Who is this?"

"It's Sean and Dustin," Dustin says, voice crackling a little. 

"I don't have time for this," Chris says. "Call me later tonight –"

"No, I need to talk to you," Sean says quickly. "It needs to be now, I have both of you here."

"The last time you called, it was to tell me that you and Mark got in a fight outside a restaurant and Gawker was reporting on it," Chris says dryly. "Is it more important than that?"

"This has nothing to do with me," Sean says. "It's about Mark, okay? He's being a fucking idiot right now and now _I_ have to the responsible one for some reason."

"Jesus, what's going on at that company now?" Dustin demands, laughing. "I've been gone for less than six months and already Sean has turned into the responsible one –"

"It isn't about Facebook," Sean snaps, kicking the bottom of Amy's refrigerator. "This is about _Mark_."

There is a moment of silence, and then Chris asks, his voice very quiet, "What's wrong with Mark?"

Sean lets out a breath, for once grateful for Chris's slightly creepy perceptiveness, and says, "He has cancer."

He listens to the background noise coming from Chris and Dustin's ends and wonders if they are feeling the same horrible sense of vertigo he had felt when Mark had shouted it at him, the sick swooping followed by the intense urge to shout or vomit or _something_ , anything other than just breaking down. He leans his head forward against the refrigerator and waits for one of them to reply. 

Dustin is the first, his voice small and barely audible as he asks, "How bad is it?"

"I don't know," Sean admits. "But – it isn't good. I looked up some stats, and survival rate about fifty-fifty."

"Jesus," Chris whispers, sounding horrified. "How long has he known?"

Sean winces and admits, "A while. He had his first round of chemo last week."

"That _asshole_!" Chris bursts out, and Sean is shocked to hear his voice crack. Chris is always so composed, even when he's telling Sean off; Sean has never seen Chris sad or more than mildly upset, and it's unsettling to hear the sound of Chris sucking in a dry sob. 

"Chris," Dustin says quietly. "It's Mark, you know how he is, he never would have told us –"

"He should have fucking told us," Chris says, voice thick. "We're his _friends_ , Dustin. What if he hadn't ever said anything? Would he just have let us find out when he died?"

"He's not going to die," Dustin and Sean say in unison, Dustin with sure conviction and Sean with a small amount of desperation. He's seen how the chemo wipes Mark out, sends him crawling to his bed before the sun had even gone down. He had knelt next to Mark when he vomited up the few bites of pasta he had managed to eat, and he is no longer as sure as he had been. 

"I'm not going to let him," Dustin adds. "I'm coming back to Palo Alto, okay?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Sean starts. 

"Me too," Chris says. "I can come in a week."

"No," Sean says quickly. "You're getting _married_."

"And I want Mark to be there when that happens," Chris says. "I'm not letting him get out of wearing a tux." He doesn't quite manage to make the joke land, but Dustin snorts out a laugh anyway. 

"What about your fiancé?" Sean tries. 

"He'll understand." Chris has his determined tone on and Sean knows that he isn't going to be able to sway him. "We won't impose on him, we'll find places to stay, right, Dustin?"

"Yeah," Dustin says. "He shouldn't be alone for this. He needs help."

"He has me," Sean says, stung. "I'm not _useless_."

"You need help too," Chris says quietly. "We can help out with Facebook, make sure everything is getting covered. But Mark trusts you. He needs you, and you can't – you can't take this all on yourself, Sean." 

Sean turns so his back is to the refrigerator and sinks to sit on the floor. "I know," he says. He'd nearly had a moment of weakness after leaving Mark's house on Sunday morning, still wrecked from a sleepless night of sitting with a vomiting Mark, trying to figure out if he should be doing something. He had already turned the wheel on the familiar route to his dealer's place, calculating how much cash he had and how much coke it would buy him –

And then he had pulled over, gotten out, hands shaking, and retched, his vision blurring as he bent double. He had kicked his tires until he felt better, and then he had gotten back in his car, turned it around, and headed home to sleep.

"Okay," Sean rasps. He clears his throat and repeats, "Okay. I'll – I'll tell Mark you're coming."

"I'll email you our plans," Chris says. "And Sean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," Chris says, soft and heartfelt. Dustin echoes him a moment later and Sean has to put his head between his knees for a moment. 

"Yeah," he says again when his breathing is back to normal. "I'll see you soon, I guess."

When he hangs up, he drops his phone on the floor and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. He hears the soft sound of Amy's bare feet and looks up as she crouches down next to him. 

"Are you all right?" she asks, reaching out to touch his shoulder. 

He can tell that she already knows, or guesses, but he still says, "Mark has cancer, and I'm afraid he's going to die."

Amy says, "I know, baby," and she wraps her arms around his shoulders as he gives in and starts to cry.

 

Sean isn't exactly sure how to tell Mark about Chris and Dustin, so he puts it off for a few days while he tries to figure out how Mark will react. He does some reading, asks Amy some questions, and eventually decides that Mark needs a dog. 

"I don't think this is the best idea," Amy says as they're standing in the door to the pound. "You don't even know if he likes dogs."

"I'm sure he does," Sean says. "I've seen him playing with dogs before." He's lying; he's never heard Mark say anything about having pets or dogs, but Sean wants Mark to have something to care for. He's afraid that Mark is going to give up, which Sean admits is probably a little irrational. 

The dogs bark excitedly when the volunteer leads them into the back, and Amy makes a cooing sound, reaching out to a tiny dog with a wonky ear. Sean looks around, trying to figure out what Mark might like. His attention is caught by a small, very white, very fluffy puppy curled up in a cage at the end. Sean walks down the aisle to it and crouches down. 

The puppy stirs and clambers to its feet, eying Sean. Then it pads forward and paws at the bars. Sean reaches through and grins when the dog licks his fingers excitedly. 

"He's been here for a while," the volunteer says from behind him. "His mom's owner couldn't find someone to adopt him, so he got dumped here."

"I don't know why," Sean says. "He's cute. Is there something wrong with him?"

"No, he's a very friendly dog," the volunteer says, crouching down next to her. She's kind of hot, Sean notices, and he wonders if it would be bad form to ask for her number. "He just isn't trained yet, which a lot of people don't want to do. But if you and your girlfriend are willing to do that –"

"We're not dating," Amy and Sean say in unison. 

"And the dog isn't for me," Sean adds. "My friend, he – he has cancer, and he really misses having a dog like he did when he was little."

Amy makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a groan. Sean shoots her a look. The volunteer doesn't seem notice, though. 

"That's so sweet," she says, smiling at him. "You're a good friend."

"It's what anyone would do," Sean says, ducking his head with faux modesty. 

He leaves the pound with the puppy and the volunteer's number, _Veronica_ written in curly script above the digits. Amy shakes her head as they get into her car and says, "I can't believe that worked."

"I have game," Sean says, setting the puppy on his laugh. "You fell for it once."

"And yet you never did seal the deal, did you?" She smirks as he sputters indignantly. "What are you going to do if Mark doesn't want the dog?"

Sean hadn't actually considered that. "I don't know," he says. "You want a dog?"

Amy rolls her eyes and says, "One of these days, this whole not-thinking-things-through thing is really going to get you in trouble."

Amy drops him off at Mark's house and drives off without waiting to see if he gets in all right. Sean lets himself in – Mark really shouldn't have told him where the hidden key is – and goes to wait for Mark in the living room. The puppy is more energetic before, licking enthusiastically at Sean's hands and feet and jumping up on his knees.

Mark comes home around fifteen minutes later; he's been leaving work earlier these days, which is how Sean knows that Mark is feeling worse than he'll admit. Mark shuffles into the living room a minute later and pulls up short, staring. 

"I bought you a dog!" Sean says unnecessarily. The dog yips helpfully and bounds forward to leap at Mark. 

Mark reaches down to pet the dog's head and says, "Okay. I can see that. But, Sean, and this is a big one – _why_ did you buy me a dog?"

"No reason," Sean says. "He's just a puppy, he isn't trained, and he doesn't have a name yet." 

"Um," Mark says. "You realize that puppies are a lot of work?"

"It'll give you something to do," Sean says, beginning to sense danger. "Come on, Mark, I know you're lonely here."

Mark doesn't answer and doesn't meet his eyes. He crouches down to scratch the puppy's ears. Then he says, "You're paying for the training."

"Sure, whatever," Sean says. He watches as Mark smiles at the puppy and decides that now is the best chance to break his news. "Oh, so – I called Chris and Dustin."

Mark looks up sharply and stares at Sean. "What?"

"They deserve to know," Sean says stubbornly. "You shouldn't have avoided telling them for so long." 

"You did _what_?" Mark stands up and glares at Sean. "You had _no right_ , they don't need to know –"

"And they're coming here," Sean says, ignoring him. "They want to be with you, Mark. They're your friends."

Mark shakes his head. "They have their own lives."

"You think that matters?" Sean stands. "You'll thank me later."

"Sean," Mark says, but Sean doesn't want to hear it anymore. He's suddenly tired of Mark's insistence on doing things by himself, tired of being the only one who knows Mark's secret. 

"Shut up and thank me," Sean says. 

"I can't do both at the same time," Mark snaps, crossing his arms. "Get out of my house. And take the dog with you."

"Okay," Sean says, "but then he'll go back to the pound where he'll probably _die_. If you want his life to be on your hands –"

"Okay, fine, leave the stupid dog, but you need to leave," Mark says. He holds out his hand. "And give me my key."

Sean tosses him the spare key and leaves, rolling his eyes. It isn't until he's outside that he realizes he doesn't have a ride, and he calls himself a cab so he doesn't have to tell Amy what happened with Mark. 

 

"He bought you a dog?" Victoria asks Mark during his next session, sounding like she's trying hard not to laugh. 

Mark sighs and says, "I think you're missing the point here. He _told my friends_ without asking."

"Yes," Victoria says in that insufferably patient tone of voice. "I did hear that. Why didn't you tell them yourself?"

"Because I knew how they would react!" Mark says, sitting up straighter. "Dustin is going to look sad at me a lot and act like he I'm going to break if he says the wrong thing, and Chris is going to try to take over my life for me because he thinks I don't know how to take care of myself."

"How do you know that?" Victoria asks. 

"Because that's what they did when Edua –" Mark stops, swallows hard. "That's what they did before."

"Before what?" 

"I don't want to talk about this," Mark says, looking down. "Let's go back to the dog, let's talk about my dog."

"Okay," Victoria says, but he can tell from her tone that she's going to come back to this later. "Tell me about your dog. What did you name him?"

"Beast," Mark says, and he smiles a little despite himself. "I hired this college student to house train him, but he's pretty well-behaved."

"And you like having him?"

Mark nods. It's nice to come home to something other than an empty house, and Beast worships him, follows him around everywhere and jumps into bed with him. The house has felt so empty since Sam left him, and Beast might just be a dog, but at least he's another living thing. "I never had a dog before," he says. "I had a turtle when I was seven. It died, though."

"Have you spoken to Sean since then?" Victoria asks. 

"No," Mark says, hating the absurd guilt he feels when admitting that. "I don't know what to say to him."

"You should talk to him," Victoria says. "At least tell him that you named the dog."

"Yeah," Mark says. "I will."

 

Life settles into a pattern for Mark; he has alarms on his phone to remind him to take his pills, and he talks to his family every night after he eats dinner. It's hard to talk to them, but he's always been close to them and he has realized that there is so much he has missed by being on the other side of the country from him. He hadn't even known that Arielle had a boyfriend, or that Donna had changed her grad studies, and he wonders what else he might miss, if he'll even be around to see Donna get her Master's. 

When he starts thinking like that, he turns on the TV and puts the volume as high as he can stand until he has drowned out his own thoughts. Beast doesn't like it when he does that, though, so he tries not to. 

He's getting ready for bed two nights after his second session with Victoria when the first lock of hair falls out. He stares at it for a long time until Beast whines and pushes his head against his shins. Mark absently pets Beast's ears and sets the clump of hair on his bedside table. It looks really creepy just lying there, though, so he sweeps it off and throws it away. 

Mark sucks it up and calls Sean the next day, fingering the place where his hair had fallen out. "Hey," he says when Sean picks up. "I need your help with something."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sean asks later that night when they're standing in front of Mark's bathroom mirror, the trash can on the counter. Beast is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, watching them avidly. Sean brandishes the electric razor he had brought over. "I mean, you'll look fucking hilarious without hair, so I'm totally in favor –"

"Shut up," Mark says. "Just shave my head, will you?"

"Okay," Sean says, reaching out to grab a handful of Mark's hair. "You know, I read that hair sometimes grows back curlier after chemo."

"Just what I need," Mark mutters. Sean smirks and leans forward to shear off the first chunk of hair. Mark keeps his eyes open as Sean pulls the hair away and drops it into the trash, where it settles against the plastic liner and looks unnervingly like a dead animal . 

"Ta-da," Sean says proudly. He holds the razor out to Mark. "You should do one."

Mark eyes the razor, then takes it and says, "All right." He squints at his reflection and picks the next chunk to go. "Here we go."

It turns out that Sean's right; Mark does look weird without hair. He rubs his hand over his newly shorn head and makes a face at his reflection. His head feels cold and exposed; it's strange and a little uncomfortable. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

"Nah," Sean says cheerfully. "Look, I bought you a hat." He pulls out a beanie and pulls it down over Mark's head. "There you go."

Mark just thinks he looks even more like what he is – a cancer patient – but he doesn't say that. Instead, he says, "Thanks, Sean. And – thanks for everything else."

"No problem," Sean says. 

Mark fidgets with the beanie a little until it's covering most of where he used to have hair. His reflection looks weird to him; he's used to seeing dark circles under his eyes, but they look worse now, and without hair, his head looks strangely small. He touches the back of his neck where his curls had been starting to reach for his collar. The skin there is surprisingly soft.

"So when are Dustin and Chris coming into town?" he asks, dropping his hand back to his side.

Sean grins, and the last bit of tension that has been lingering between them evaporates. "Later this week. They're staying in my condo."

"What about you?" Mark asks, frowning as he shoos Beast off the bathtub and pads out into his bedroom. 

"Oh, I'm never there anyway," Sean says dismissively. "They might as well have somewhere to stay and it has, like, six bedrooms. Well, four and a half."

Mark decides not to ask what he means by half and instead says, "Thank you for calling them. I should have done it myself."

"Yeah, you should have," Sean says. He claps Mark on the shoulder. "But hey, that's what you have me for, right?"

"Yeah," Mark says. "That's what I have you for." He looks down at the razor in his hand and smirks. He raises it teasingly, knowing how vain Sean is about his hair. "Now it's time for you to shave your head –"

"Hey, no!" Sean yelps, trying to bat Mark's hands away. "I like my hair, Mark!"

"Solidarity, Sean," says Mark. He lets his hand hover for another moment before dropping it back to his side, feeling a little more cheerful. 

Sean glares at him and snatches the razor away. "Fine, jerk. I'll look really stupid bald, but I'll do it for you."

"I was kidding!" Mark protests as Sean raises the razor to his head. "Sean, you don't have to do this, you've written odes to your hair when you were drunk."

"If you're going bald, I'll at least go buzzed," Sean says determinedly, and he carefully shears off one chunk of curly blond hair. 

When Sean finishes, Mark's bathroom floor is littered with loops of Sean's hair and Mark's darker curls. Sean strokes a hand over the close-cropped hair of his head and winks at his reflection. "Hey, I look pretty hot. Maybe this will be my new look."

Mark rolls his eyes and kicks at some of the hair on the floor. "Or you could tell girls _you_ 're the one with cancer and pick them up."

"Oh, nice one, Zuckerberg." Sean claps him and beams. "You have learned well, my padawan."

"Go get a broom," Mark says grumpily, and he waits until Sean leaves to smile down at the mixture of hair scattered across his tiles.

Mark can't stop rubbing at his head as he gets ready for bed that night. It feels so smooth and strange and he can't help thinking about eggs when he looks at his reflection. He sleeps with the beanie on and Beast sprawled over his lower legs, and when he wakes up, he's hugging one of his extra pillows to his chest. 

No one at work actually asks him about his hair when he comes in, but he hears them whispering when the music on his iPod changes. He knows that some of them have put the pieces together and figured out that there is something wrong with him, but he does his best to ignore them. He isn't ready to talk about it yet, especially if their looks of faint horror and pity are anything like what he'll receive afterward.

On Friday, Sean calls him and says, "Chris and Dustin are here. I let them into your house."

"Thanks," Mark says, leaning heavily against his desk. He can't quite catch his breath, and his heart is pounding so hard that he can feel it against his ribs. "I'll – can you pick me up from work? I'm feeling dizzy."

"All right," Sean says. "What about your car?"

"I'll give you my keys," Mark says. "See you." He hangs up and puts his head down on his arms, breathing hard. 

Sean arrives not long later and helps Mark up. "Are you all right, man?" he asks, frowning down at him. "You look tired."

"I haven't been sleeping well," Mark says grumpily. "Can we just go?"

"Sure, man," Sean says. "Let's get going."

Sean excuses himself once they arrive at Mark's house and says, "Go on in. I'll bring your car back."

"Thanks, Sean," Mark says. He lets himself in and is immediately accosted by Beast, who jumps around Mark's legs until he kneels down to play with him. Beast licks his face and Mark smiles, scratching Beast behind the ears. "Hey, Beast. You see Chris and Dustin?"

Beast yips and breaks away from Mark to go running towards the living room. Mark follows him, but hesitates at the door before shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. He kicks it open gently and steps inside. 

Chris and Dustin are sitting on the couch, both trying very hard to look nonchalant. Chris is holding a book up to his face, but Mark has seen Chris study enough to know that he isn't really reading, and Dustin is pretending to type. His fingers are moving in the exact same pattern, over and over again, and Mark remembers that Dustin had used to type song lyrics to trick Mark into thinking he was working.

"What song lyric are you typing now?" Mark asks. Dustin's head jerks up in surprise, nearly knocking his computer off his lap. Chris puts his book down with considerably more dignity and stares at Mark with his unnerving glare. Mark looks down and says, "Hi."

He hears Chris get to his feet and glances up just as Chris wraps him in a tight, warm hug. He smells like clean laundry and cigarette smoke, as familiar and as nostalgic as the sound of Eduardo's voice or the sight of Dustin gesturing wildly as he speaks. For a moment, Mark feels very young, and very lonely. 

"Hi," Chris says in Mark's ear. "Good to see you, Mark." 

Mark cautiously raises his arms and hugs Chris back. "I thought you were mad at me."

"I'm almost always mad at you," Chris jokes, stepping back. He doesn't quite let go of Mark, his fingers still tightened in the sleeve of Mark's hoodie. "But I'm glad to see you."

"Me too," Dustin says, standing. "Come here, Mark, just because you have cancer doesn't mean you can get away from one of my hugs."

Chris lets out a harsh, choked laugh and releases Mark's sleeve. "You'd better do it, you know how he is."

Mark rolls his eyes, but allows Dustin to hug him fiercely and doesn't even mention the fact that his sweatshirt is slightly damper when Dustin pulls back. "Hi, Dustin."

"Did you shave your head?" Dustin asks, reaching up to pluck the beanie from Mark's head. "Wow, that is so weird."

Mark tolerates Dustin rubbing his bare scalp for a few seconds, then smacks his hand away. "Okay, stop it."

"You should sit down," Chris says, placing his hand between Mark's shoulder blades. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," Mark says dryly. "I appreciate that." He sits down and tries not to give away how nice it is to be off his feet. When he looks up, Chris is watching him closely while Dustin is distracted by Beast, who has made his grand entrance into the living room. 

"Seriously," Chris says, sitting down next to Mark. "I'm surprised it hasn't been in the news yet."

"I think Sean is bribing people," Mark admits. "He made my therapist sign a non-disclosure agreement."

"Therapist?" Dustin asks, looking up. "Really?"

Mark shrugs. "My doctor suggested it." 

"And you agreed?" Dustin moves so that he's sitting on Mark's other side. "Mark –"

"I don't want to talk about this," Mark says abruptly. 

"Well," Chris says after a moment of tense silence, "we do need to talk about how you're going to handle this. Have you even written a will or named a successor?"

Mark shakes his head. "No."

"Jesus." Chris rubs his forehead. "Okay. I'm taking over press. I've already talked to Laura about it, and we agree that you _have_ to say something. People are going to figure it out soon anyway, it's better that we control the story, given that the IPO is in a few months."

"This isn't a news story," Mark says. "I don't want people to know."

"You have to tell the employees, at the very least. Mark, this is _happening_ , you have to –"

"I know it's happening, Chris!" Mark snaps. "I'm the one it's happening _to_ , I'm the one who's _dying_ –"

"You're not dying," Dustin says immediately. "Stop that."

"I'm dying," Mark says stubbornly. "And that belongs to me, not to anyone else."

Chris stood up, his expression stormy. "That might be true. But there are plenty of people who care about you, including us. I'm putting my life on hold to help you because you're my friend and you need someone to take care of the things you won't."

"He's not dying," Dustin says, voice cracking, and Mark suddenly can't stand being in the same room as them. 

"I'm going to sleep," he says. "Come on, Beast." Beast runs after him as he heads upstairs. He can hear Dustin and Chris start to argue in the living room, so he shuts his door and puts his pillow over his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Beast curls up on his feet, and Mark smiles before trying to make his mind stop working.

He starts working on his will the next morning, writing out who gets what on a piece of paper from his printer. He splits his shares between Dustin, Sean, and Randi, knowing that Chris wouldn't want them, and gives his house to Sean, who needs a better place than the awful condo he lives in. Most of his smaller belongings are easier to deal with, as is his money. 

He's just about finished when he finds himself writing _Eduardo_ at the bottom of his sheet. He looks at the name, tapping his pen next to it and thinking. He eventually writes, _come back to this_ , and sets the paper aside. 

Dustin and Chris are in the living room, having apparently camped out on Mark's couch during the night. "Hi," he says cautiously, waving at them. "I'm – I didn't mean to get angry yesterday."

"It's fine." Chris stands up and goes to help Mark to the couch. Mark hates that he actually needs the help, that he's feeling dizzy enough that it's good to have Chris's arm to steady himself with. "I didn't mean to pressure you. We're here to help."

"I know," Mark says. He sits down heavily next to Chris. "You're right about the press. We can't hide it, since we've announced the IPO."

"We don't have to tell anyone before you're ready," Chris says. "We can wait to go public for another few weeks."

Dustin is nodding from his seat, looking earnest. "But you should tell the employees."

"And at least some of the investors." Chris grabs his laptop and starts typing. After a moment, he pauses and looks up. "Does, um. Does Eduardo know?"

Mark doesn't answer. Dustin groans and flops back. "Great."

"Does he need to know?" Mark demands, frowning. "Why would he know?"

"You haven't called him?" Chris asks incredulously, eyebrows shooting up. "Mark –"

"I haven't talked to Wa – to Eduardo in months," Mark says, just barely catching himself. From the look on Chris's face, his slip has not gone unnoticed. "And we talked about the weather and his cat and then he made a stupid excuse to go talk to someone else."

"He'll want to know," Dustin says, not moving off the floor. 

"He hates me, he doesn't care," Mark snaps, stomach dropping. His mouth has gone dry at the thought of Eduardo seeing him like this, at the pity or hate or, worse yet, _happiness_ he might see in Eduardo's eyes. 

"Don't be stupid, Eduardo doesn't hate you," Chris says, rolling his eyes. "You need to tell him. If you don't –"

"You're not allowed to tell him," Mark says sharply. 

"Mark –"

"Don't," Mark says, clenching his hands into fists. "Please," he adds. "Please don't tell him."

"Okay, fine!" Chris says, holding up his hand. "We promise, we won't tell. Right, Dustin?"

"Right," Dustin says. "Even though you're being a moron."

Mark shrugs and leans over to look at Chris's screen. "It's still my decision."

"You should tell him before we announce it," Chris says. When Mark glares at him, he sighs. "But it's up to you."

 

Sean drops by Mark's whenever his itching worry grows too strong to ignore. He knows, logically, that Mark is still doing all right and that the worst thing happening to him is that he's tired more easily, but sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night convinced that Mark is dead and has to drive to Mark's house to see him. 

He avoids his condo as much as possible; Chris and Dustin are always there, talking about things like replacements and wills and talking to the press and Sean just wants them to stop, because they shouldn't _need_ to talk about that kind of stuff. Instead, he sleeps at Amy's or Janet's or Fatima's and tells them that his place is being renovated. 

He takes Mark to his second round of chemo and meets Mark's chemo buddy Hazel, who shakes Sean's hand and says, "Mark has mentioned you."

"It's all true," Sean says cheerfully, trying not to feel pleased by that. Mark looks like he's trying hard not to smile as he gets hooked up to the machine, and it's nice to see him looking happy for once. "All of it."

"Even the bit with the dead hookers in Reno?" Hazel asks, widening her eyes, and Mark starts to giggle, covering his mouth with one hand. 

"Wow, of course you find someone who's as much of a smartass as you," Sean says. He turns to look at the doctor and asks, "Can I stay?"

"Do you want to?" she asks doubtfully. "It's four hours long."

"I don't have anywhere to be," Sean says, and he sits down on an empty chair next to Mark while Hazel rolls up her sleeve and lets the nurse insert the IV. "I can tell her about what really happened in Reno."

"She's sixteen," Mark says in that tone of voice he always uses to warn Sean off girls. 

"So I'll keep it PG-13," Sean says. 

"I've seen _Boogie Nights_ , you're not going to take away my innocence," says Hazel, rolling her eyes. "Come on, tell me."

Mark settles back, still smiling, and Sean launches into the story, gesturing energetically, and is pleased when Hazel laughs, throwing her head back. 

The four hours go by surprisingly quickly, but by the end Hazel and Mark are both visibly exhausted. Sean helps Mark up and takes Hazel's hand even though she protests that her parents are coming. "Let's get you to the waiting room, at least," Sean suggests. 

"Sixteen," Mark mutters next to Sean's ear. 

They leave Hazel in the waiting room and she calls, "Pancakes on Thursday night?" at Mark, which confuses Sean, but Mark seems to understand because he nods and waves.

Sean takes Mark to the car, trying not to be obvious about how much Mark's obvious weakness scares him. Sean isn't used to taking care of people or anything, really. His mom had given him a cactus once and it had died within a month, for reasons that Sean still has not discovered. Mark isn't exactly the nurturing type, but in the grand scheme of their relationship, Mark had always been the one to drive Sean home from the bar or a girl's house, the one who patted his back with a broom when he was throwing up. 

And now Mark is curled up in his passenger seat, his eyes closed and his beanie pulled down low to hide the lack of curls, and Sean hates this, he hates it so much that something as stupid as some extra cells can reduce the smartest person he knows to _this.  
_  
"You want to go home?" Sean asks, getting into the driver's seat. "You look tired."

"No," Mark says, stirring. "I have to go see Sheryl."

"Sheryl?" Sean asks, confused. Then he realizes what that means and bites the inside of his cheek. "Right."

"Chris thinks she should take over Facebook if –" Mark gestures vaguely. "But I haven't told her yet. I think she knows, but, you know." 

"Yeah." Sean starts the car and eases out of the hospital parking lot. "How do you think she'll take it?"

"It'll be fine," Mark says, but he doesn't sound convinced. 

It takes half an hour to get to Sheryl's house from the hospital. Sean parks in her driveway, but doesn't get out, knowing that Sheryl won't want to see him. "Good luck," he tells Mark.

Mark smiles wryly. "Thanks," he says, and he slips out of the car. Sean leans against the window and closes his eyes while he waits. Sheryl is a good choice, he thinks, better than anyone else. She's always taken care of Mark and Facebook with the same kind of dedication that she devotes to her children. Mark trusts her with the company, and Sean knows she'll do a good job, even if she does hate him.

But the idea of Facebook without Mark feels so wrong that Sean can't even imagine it. Mark is as synonymous with Facebook as the wall or Farmville. Mark was the reason that Sean even took a chance on Facebook; he always had such a clear vision of what he wanted that it was hard not to get swept along with him. 

Sean pushes those thoughts away and reminds himself that Mark is still alive. He looks out the window and sees Mark and Sheryl heading down the walkway together. Sheryl looks angry, her eyebrows drawn together in a harsh scowl. Sean clambers out of his car and hurries over to them. 

"Hey, hi, is everything all right?" he asks. 

Sheryl gives him a poisonous look and turns to Mark. "Send Chris to me and we'll strategize. You don't have to worry about this anymore."

"That's not why I –" Mark starts. 

"I know," Sheryl says. She reaches out and touches Mark's arm. "But your mom isn't here."

Mark's face goes through a complicated series of expressions, and then he slowly folds himself into Sheryl's arms. Sheryl hugs him tightly, her eyes shiny, and she looks at Sean defiantly, as if daring him to comment. Sean doesn't care; he's glad to see that Mark is letting someone take over, even though he knows that probably means Mark is starting to give up. 

"You should have told me sooner," Sheryl says to Mark, though she's still looking at Sean. He shrugs and gestures vaguely, hoping that she gets why they hadn't. She sighs and rubs Mark's back gently before letting him go. "If you ever need anything, let me know."

Mark nods, but he isn't looking at her. Sean looks closer and sees that his mouth is pressed into a tight, anxious line. "Thanks, Sheryl," Mark says. He turns back towards Sean and says, "I want to go home."

"Go, I'll be there in a minute," Sean says, because Sheryl is giving him that look that means she wants to yell at him and he would rather do it without Mark standing there. Mark nods and shuffles away, leaving Sheryl and Sean staring at each other. 

"This is not something you keep from me," Sheryl says in a steely voice, crossing her arms. "Do you understand me, Sean? I should have known about this the _moment_ Mark got his diagnosis."

"That wasn't up to me," Sean says, crossing his arms too. He's taller than Sheryl by a few inches, but she always makes him feel like he's five years old and three feet tall. Today, though, he isn't going to stand for it. "Mark tells who he wants."

"You called Dustin and Chris," Sheryl points out. 

"That's different," Sean says. "They're his best friends."

Sheryl tilts her head to the side. "Do you really believe that?"

Sean frowns. "Yeah, of course."

"You're the one he trusted first," Sheryl says, and her voice suddenly goes wobbly. "I know we don't always – you're doing good. And don't make me regret saying that," she adds sharply. 

"If you need any help at Facebook," Sean starts. 

"No," she says, and Sean grins. "I don't think we're that desperate, thanks. Just – keep doing what you're doing. It seems to be working."

Sean gives her an ironic salute and laughs when she shakes her head in exasperation. He heads back to the car and finds that Mark has fallen asleep in the passenger seat. Sean pauses, then leans over to gently tug the zipper on Mark's jacket higher before starting the car.

 

True to her word, Hazel comes to Mark's house on Thursday, where she promptly spends five minutes playing with Beast, who seems to adore her. "I brought supplies," she says when she finally stands, holding up a grocery bag. "I figured you wouldn't have what we needed."

Mark says, "That was a good guess," and he leads her into his kitchen. 

She lets out a low whistle when she sees it. "Damn," she says. "This is so much nicer than our stuff. What do you _do_?" She doesn't actually wait for an answer; she's too busy opening his cabinets and pulling out a frankly intimidating number of bowls and spoons. 

"We're making them from scratch?" Mark asks dubiously, opening the grocery bag curiously. "I don't cook a lot."

"You'll have me giving you very strict instructions," Hazel says. "Don't worry, I'll yell at you if you do anything wrong."

She isn't kidding; she keeps a close eye on him as he mixes the batter and smacks his hand if he does anything wrong. She's even more of a taskmaster when it comes to actually flipping the pancakes, actually shoving him away from the stove at one point to demonstrate proper technique. 

"You're doing it all wrong," she says. "You're doing it too slowly." She waits a minute, watching the batter closely, then slips the spatula under the pancake and deftly flips it over in one smooth motion. 

Mark claps sarcastically. She raises her eyebrows at him and says, "Don't be a jerk, you're doing the next one."

He does do the next one under her close scrutiny, and she guides his hand with hers, showing him how to flip it. She pats him on the back and says, "Good. Next one is by yourself."

Mark says, "Don't yell at me if it comes out looking awful," and slides the pancake out to start on the next one. To his surprise, it actually goes pretty well. It at least looks mostly circular, which is an improvement over his first splotchy, mildly burned attempt. 

"I would actually eat that," Hazel says when he puts it on top of the growing pile. "Now do the rest."

They split the stack of pancakes between them at Mark's kitchen table. Hazel demolishes her stack in a frighteningly short amount of time and starts eying Mark's. Mark gives her two pancakes off the top and asks, "You don't get nauseous?"

Hazel shrugs, cutting into them with her fork and dragging the pieces through the pool of syrup on her plate. "I used to, but not as much anymore. I'm not sure why." She chews meditatively. "These are pretty good. I'll go with eight out of ten."

"Eight?" Mark asks, raising his eyebrows. 

"You would have gotten nine, but you burned the first one." Hazel grins at him. "Come on, that's good for a newbie."

"I guess," Mark says. He eyes the backpack she had brought with her. "Did you bring your French homework?"

"Yes, oh my god, I need your help," she says, leaning over to drag it closer. "I tried asking Nathan –" and here she blushes a little, as she always does when she mentions the boy who sits next to her in French, "—but I didn't really understand."

Mark tries not to laugh at her and mostly succeeds. "Okay," he says, scooting his chair around and startling Beast, who had settled on her feet. "Show me."

 

The evening after Mark tells the Facebook employees, he shows up at Sean's condo looking determined and angry. "We're going out," he says. Chris, who had driven him, rolls his eyes and pushes past Mark to head for the guest bedroom. "Just you and me."

"Sure," Sean says. "About time, you can totally pick up chicks – or guys, in your case, I guess – with the whole sob story thing."

"Whatever," Mark says. He's still wearing the beanie, as always. Sean tries to snatch it off and Mark slaps his hand. "Cut it out."

"Jeez, fine. Let me go get my keys." Sean heads back inside and grabs his phone, wallet, and keys. Mark has already headed out to the car and is lurking by the passenger side door. He is frowning and can't seem to stand still, which Sean remembers from around the time of the lawsuits. Normally Mark is contained and economical, but he fidgets when he's stressed, can't stop toying with pens or twitching at his clothes. 

Sean unlocks the car and says, "So where do you want to go?"

"Somewhere in the city," Mark says, climbing inside. "Away from here."

"Did it not go well?" Sean waves his hand immediately, shaking his head. "Never mind, I don't need to know."

Mark slumps in his seat, staring out the window as Sean drives. After a moment, he says, "They look at me differently."

He doesn't sound angry anymore, just sad. Sean doesn't know what to do with a sad Mark other than try to get alcohol in him, so he picks up speed, breezing past a little silver Prius as he keeps an eye out for cops. "Sorry."

"I knew it would happen," Mark says, shrugging. "But – it was worse than I expected."

Mark doesn't say anymore and Sean doesn't push it because he isn't sure if he really _wants_ to know what people have been saying. He can imagine it, the pitying looks and soft voices saying, "We'll miss you," as if Mark's death has already been written in stone. 

Sean leans forward to turn up the stereo so he won't have to think about that and sings along to Bon Jovi, elbowing Mark until he grudgingly joins in, his uneven voice weak and off-key but happy, at least. Mark knows all the words, which surprises Sean until he suddenly remembers coming into that first house, nestled amongst the families of Palo Alto, and finding Dustin blasting music, practically shouting the lyrics. Mark had been wearing his headphones, which was probably why Dustin had turned the music up so loud to begin with, and he had been trying not to laugh. 

Sean is surprised he remembers that. 

He isn't sure what kind of place Mark wants to go to, so he drives around until he sees a club that looks like it hits a nice balance between his own preference towards loud music and plenty of alcohol and Mark's slightly more sedate tastes. "This okay?" he asks Mark, who shrugs in acquiescence. 

Inside, Mark makes a beeline for the bar, his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched defensively. Sean rolls his eyes and follows him. The bartender, a tall, gorgeous girl with a head of riotous, kinky black curls and a wide full mouth, grins at them and says, "What'll it be, boys?"

Mark downs his first drink in almost one gulp, his beanie sliding a bit on his head. He yanks it back down with a self-conscious look towards the bartender, who is serving a group of girls down at the other end of the bar, and turns to look at Sean. "Thanks."

"Yeah, man," Sean says. "You needed this." He spreads his arms out to encompass the club. "So, see anything you like?"

Mark rolls his eyes and says, "Sean, I'm not really interested in having sex right now."

"Mark, do you realize how you can play this to your advantage?" Sean asks, gesturing towards Mark's beanie. "People feel sorry for you, yeah, but they also want to _give_ you things. It's too bad you aren't dating anyone, you could totally ask for a three way."

Mark makes a face and signals the bartender to come back. "Yeah, that's definitely what I want."

"Mark –"

"Please stop trying to push this," Mark says sharply. "I just want to get drunk right now."

"Fine," Sean says as the bartender returns to them. "It's up to you, man." He lifts his glass and clinks it against Mark's empty one. "Cheers."

Mark is most of the way to drunk by his third drink, his tolerance shot to hell by his weight loss. Sean drags him away from the bar, deciding that he doesn't want to deal with a truly wasted Mark while drunk himself, and they sit down at a table in the corner. Mark leans against the wall, looking sullen, and toys with the straw in his drink. 

"They keep treating me like I'm – like I'm going to drop any minute," he bursts out suddenly. "And I can hear them whispering behind my back when they think I'm coding."

"They're sad for you," Sean says, trying to be upbeat. He knows what Mark means, though; he remembers similar things happening after the first time he went to rehab. Only Mark had treated him with exactly the same amount of disdain and annoyance and unthinking kindness that defined Mark's attitude towards Sean.

"That isn't helpful," Mark says. He sips at his drink, eyes moving restlessly over the crowd. He suddenly goes very still, his eyes widening. "Oh."

Sean turns and tries to see what has caught Mark's attention. After a moment, he sees Mark's ex talking with a small, stocky young man. Sean bites back the instinctive angry insult he wants to shout at Sam, his hands clenching into fists at his side, and says, "We should leave."

"No," Mark says. "No, I want – I need to talk to him."

Sean looks up sharply as Mark gets to his feet. "Mark, no, he was an asshole –"

"No, he wasn't," Mark says. "I was."

"Mark –" Sean tries, but Mark has already started for Sam. Sean swears and abandons their drinks, hurrying to catch up. Sam has caught sight of them and he looks irritated, his brows drawn tight together. He's good-looking, Sean has always acknowledged that, but he never fit with Mark and Mark had tried so hard to make it work, like he always does now. Towards the end of the relationship, when they had been falling apart, Mark had been so tight and sad and just – resigned. Sean had thought – hoped – that Mark was over Sam. Sean certainly is; he had never liked Sam to begin with, and it hadn't helped that Sam had left Mark for someone "more human."

"Sam," Mark says, mouth quirking in the vaguest imitation of a smile. "I – hi."

Sam crosses his arms combatively. "Mark." He doesn't even look at Sean. "Surprised to see you out."

Mark shrugs. "Yeah." He fidgets for a moment. "I – I wanted to say I'm sorry for – I know I wasn't always the best boyfriend."

"No," Sam says flatly. "You weren't."

"Yeah," Mark agrees. "I know. That's why I wanted to apologize."

"You never apologize," Sam says, narrowing his eyes. "What is this about?"

"I apologize!" Mark says defensively. "I just wanted to say that before – I wanted to say it."

"Yeah, whatever," Sam says, starting to turn away. "I told you it was over. You're not worth _effort_ it takes to date you."

"Hey," Sean says sharply. "Mark is trying to do a good thing here."

"It's fine," Mark says to Sean. "Leave it."

"No, it isn't." Sean squares off in front of Sam, crossing his arms. "Mark was a good boyfriend to you and you know it. Maybe he was busy with work, but he treated you well and was faithful. You're the one who didn't have the balls to break it off before you slept with someone else."

"Sean –" Mark tries, but Sean is too annoyed to listen to him.

Sean points at Sam, whose scowl has only grown more pronounced. "Mark is trying to apologize to you for some idiotic reason that I haven't been able to figure out and you should listen to him if you don't have the balls to apologize to him yourself."

"Why?" demands Sam, face going red with alcohol and embarrassment. "It's all bullshit, he just _says_ stuff and doesn't –"

"He's _dying_ , you asshole!" Sean exclaims. Next to him, Mark goes very still and Sean immediately regrets saying it when he sees the look on Mark's face.

"I – what?" Sam asks, now looking confused. His date has edged away, which is wise because Sean isn't feeling very charitable. He isn't sure if it's the same guy Sam left Mark for, and he doesn't want to find out. "What are you talking about?"

"Sean, shut up," Mark says, his voice shaking. "We're leaving." 

"He has cancer," Sean says, lowering his voice. "You didn't notice? Mark told me you complained about him tossing and turning, you didn't realize something was wrong?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Sean?" Sam asks, his voice shaking. "That's – that can't be true, Mark isn't even thirty yet." He eyes Mark's beanie and Sean's buzzcut, and then he starts to laugh bitterly. "Oh, I get it. Is this some kind of sick joke you two came up with? A way to pick up girls?" Sam asks."Wow, Sean, I knew you were pathetic, but I never thought you'd stoop to trying to get pity sex."

"Yeah, it's a joke," Sean says. "Ha ha. It's about as funny as you coming home and telling Mark you found someone else to fu –"

Sam pushes his shoulder and snaps, "Back off, Sean, you weren't even there."

Sean smacks Sam's hand away. "I was there afterward," he says. "I bet you would have thought it was really fucking funny to see Mark –"

"Shut up, Sean," Mark says in a low, fierce voice. He grabs for Sean's arm. "Come on."

"Yeah, _Sean_ ," Sam says snidely. He looks at Mark. "Still need him to fight your battles for you?"

Mark ignores him, trying to tug on Sean's arm. Sean shakes him off and says, "I've been wanting to do this for a long time," before clumsily hitting Sam in the face. His knuckles skid off Sam's cheekbone – Sean has never really learned to fight and his coordination is off anyway – but it still feels satisfying, particularly since Sam yelps and falls back a step. 

Mark grabs his arm and pulls him away while Sean yells, " _You_ 're the real asshole here, you –"

"Shut _up_ ," Mark says loudly, yanking at Sean's arm. "Jesus, Sean, this shouldn't have been that big a deal."

"He _cheated_ on you and he acts like you're the one that did something wrong," Sean snaps, but he lets Mark tow him away from Sam. "Mark –"

"I don't _care_ ," Mark says. "I wanted to apologize and I did, can we just go?"

"Fine," Sean says, still angry. "You shouldn't have, though."

"Whatever." Mark tugs his beanie lower on his head and starts walking towards the door, fast enough that Sean has to pick up his pace. 

"Mark, stop," Sean says. " _Mark_."

"I don't want to talk about it," Mark snaps, and he pushes his way out the door. Sean hurries to catch up with him. "I _wasn't_ a good boyfriend to him, all right? I was busy all the time and I know I'm not easy to live with –"

"And if he couldn't deal with that, he didn't deserve you," Sean says. "He knew what he was getting into when you guys moved in together. It isn't your fault." He reaches out and touches Mark's shoulder; he's so tense that he flinches away from Sean's hand. "Mark. It isn't true. You're worth the effort."

Mark shrugs. "You have to say that."

"Dude, if I didn't think you were, do you think I'd still be here?" Sean gestures between them. "Do you think _Chris and Dustin_ would be here if you weren't worth the effort? Hell, I bet if Eduardo knew, he'd be here –"

Mark goes very pale at Eduardo's name and says, "Stop talking."

Sean shuts his mouth and goes to get the car. Mark is quiet for almost the entire ride back to Palo Alto, but right before Sean turns onto Mark's street, Mark asks, "Do you really think he would?"

"Who?" Sean asks. 

"Eduardo," Mark says. "Do you really think he would care?"

"Of course he would," Sean says. For all Eduardo's faults – and in Sean's opinion, he has many – he has always cared about Mark more than anyone else, even when he pretended he didn't. 

Mark doesn't say anything else except goodbye, and Sean watches him go inside, looking small and lost. Sean checks the clock, thinks about heading back to his condo where Chris and Dustin are planning how best to announce Mark's cancer to the world, and drives in the direction of Amy's apartment instead. She doesn't ask any questions when she opens her door, just brings him inside and makes him a cup of coffee. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks gently. 

"Not yet," Sean says, stirring his coffee. "But thanks."

Amy kisses his forehead before going to get her laptop. They sit together in companionable silence, and it feels almost domestic. Sean looks at her, her face lit blue by her screen, and is suddenly grateful that he has somehow managed to hang onto her as a friend. 

"Thank you," he says.

She looks up, startled. "For what?"

He smiles. "For being my friend."

Amy laughs, clearly thinking he's joking. He doesn't bother trying to correct her. 

 

Mark has a cold during his next therapy session, which Victoria assures him is normal. "Your immune system is being weakened by the chemo," she says, tapping her pen against her knee. "But other than that, how are you feeling?"

"Sheryl and I told the employees about me on Thursday," Mark says. "It wasn't great."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Mark shrugs. "Not really." He pauses, then says slowly, "I went out with Sean and ran into my ex-boyfriend." 

"Did you talk to him?" Victoria asks. 

"I apologized to him." Mark leans forward to prop his elbows on his knees. "I don't know why I did that."

"Why did you break up?" Victoria asks. 

Mark picks at a loose thread on his sweatpants. "He...cheated on me," he says slowly. "He told me he didn't want to work so hard and he found someone else." 

"And you apologized to him?" Victoria asks. Her tone is carefully neutral, but Mark still hears the echo of Sean's disbelief in her words. 

"I wasn't the best boyfriend," Mark says. "I work a lot. I can be – my mom used the word abrasive. But I liked him. He was the longest term partner I've ever had."

"Is that why you apologized to him?" 

"No," Mark says after a moment. "I don't know why, exactly. I knew he would – he thought I was lying or something and I knew he would think that, but I still wanted to say it. Sean punched him," he adds. "And then he said something that I keep – I keep thinking about it."

"What was it?" 

"He said that Eduardo would come out here in an instant if he knew about me," Mark says. 

Victoria looks up sharply. "Are you ready to talk about Eduardo, Mark?"

"No," Mark says. "But – I don't know how much you know about me, but he was my best friend in college and I – I made some mistakes. We both did and we both – he sued me and we haven't really talked since." He looks down at his hands. "He liked to take care of me."

"Do you think Sean was right?" Victoria asks. "About Eduardo?"

"I don't know," Mark admits. "I know if this happened at Harvard, I wouldn't have been able to get rid of him. He would have always been around."

"You've said you don't like it when people hover," Victoria says. "But he was your best friend?"

"I didn't mind as much when it was him," Mark says quietly. He blinks hard and adds, "I don't want him to know, but I would like to talk to him. Just to – so he knows that I'm sorry about how things ended." He sneezes and rubs at his nose with the back of his sleeve. 

"I know we have half an hour left," Victoria says, glancing towards the clock, "but you need to get home and stay in bed until you're better."

"I thought you said it was normal," Mark says, frowning. 

"That doesn't mean it's _good_." Victoria leans back and picks up a card off her desk. "Call me if you need to talk, okay, Mark? Don't keep things bottled up."

"Okay," Mark says, taking the card. "Thanks."

He drives himself home and crawls into bed with his laptop. Beast curls up on his feet, leaving trails of white fur over his comforter. Mark smiles and scratches Beast's head before starting up Netflix. He falls asleep in the middle of an episode of Arrested Development and doesn't wake up for fourteen hours. 

He spends most of the next week in bed, brought low by something as stupid and insignificant as a cold. Chris brings him soup and he manages to work a little bit, but mostly he sleeps and watches movies on his laptop. 

Mark is better by the time he has to go to his third chemotherapy session. Sean had to go out of town for some Spotify thing, so Dustin drives him and hangs around for the first hour before excusing himself to go take care of some business at Facebook. Mark doesn't even have the energy to ask anymore; he hardly knows what's going on at his own company these days, which should bother him more than it does. 

He helps Hazel with her homework again and listens to her complain about drama at school. She seems more tired than usual, but then, she's been sick for longer than he has. They play cards – Hazel wins almost every time – and then Hazel produces a small stack of recipes she has torn from magazines.

"I found some more kinds of pancakes," she explains, laughing when he makes a face. "I don't know, I thought you might want them."

"Thanks." He shuffles them awkwardly, then says, "You should make some for Nathan."

"What?" Hazel asks, head jerking up. She narrows her eyes at him. "Why?"

"You have a crush on him, don't you?" Mark asks. "You talk about him a lot."

Hazel groans and flops back in her chair. "If you've figured it out, it must be really obvious."

"I'm not as obtuse as Sean wants you to think," Mark says. 

"I guess." Hazel sighs. "I like him and all, but with this whole cancer bullshit, it's stupid, right?"

"Maybe," Mark says. He doesn't really know why he had mentioned Nathan, or why he suddenly really wants Hazel to do something about her crush, but it seems important, somehow. "Probably."

"You're very helpful," Hazel says. She picks up the deck of cards and says, "Gin?"

They play until her mother come to pick her up, which is around the same time that Chris arrives. Mark pulls himself up when they come in and has to brace himself on his chair.

"You must be Mark," Hazel's mom says, smiling and shaking his hand. "Hazel has told us a lot about you."

" _Mom_ ," Hazel complains, hugging her French textbook to her chest. "Jeez."

"Nice to meet you," Mark says politely, because Chris is giving him the _use your social skills, Mark, the ones I taught you_ look. "Hazel is really great."

Hazel's pale cheeks flush, and she ducks her head, but still manages to quip, "I am, aren't I?"

Mark impulsively gives her a one-armed hug. "See you in a month."

"Yeah," she says cheerfully, waving. "Thanks for help with French!"

Mark shrugs and says, "Sure."

Chris is smiling when Mark looks over at him, but he doesn't comment, just takes Mark's elbow to help him to the car. 

Three days later, Mark gets a call from Hazel's mother and he only has to hear the choked, thick sound of her voice to know what has happened. 

 

Sean comes with him to the funeral. 

Mark hadn't expected that; he hadn't expected to be invited, either, but Hazel's mother had insisted and Mark couldn't say no, not when she sounded so broken that her words were hardly recognizable. Mark pulls out his black suit, which is too big for him now, and brings flowers – irises, because Hazel had once mentioned that she loved them. 

The funeral is full of kids, all of them looking as shattered as Hazel's mother. A boy who Mark belatedly recognizes as Nathan gets up to speak and starts crying in the middle, huge shaking sobs that shake his whole body. Mark bites down on his lower lip and wishes he hadn't come. 

He doesn't go to look at her body, either. He doesn't want to see her laid out like that, with her eyes closed and her hands folded demurely on her chest. He does give her mother a hug, which she returns gratefully, and shakes her father's hand. Mark can feel people looking at him and his bare head – he had taken his beanie off in respect – and knows that they're speculating on how he knew her. 

He's fine for the first week after the funeral; he's fine for the second week, too. He's fine all the way until his fourth chemotherapy session, when he walks in and sees the empty chair Hazel had always sat in, and then he cracks into humiliating, angry tears, curling in on himself while Chris looks on in terror. 

"Mark –" Chris says, trying to touch Mark's shoulder, but Mark flinches away, not wanting his comfort.

"She was sixteen," Mark says to Victoria the next day. He feels empty and raw, the skin around his eyes still slightly pink. "She was sixteen and she hadn't even been on a real date. She had never been in love."

Victoria doesn't say anything. She seems to sense that he just wants to talk and is letting him pace back and forth in front of the couch. He can't stay still, so full of anger and grief that he can hardly stand to be in the same room as anyone _healthy_. 

"She had never been in love," he says again. He sinks down on the couch and buries his face in his hands. "I'm not afraid of dying," he says to the floor. "I've nearly died before. But I don't want to – there are things I haven't done and I'm dying and there's not enough _time_."

"What is it that you want to do?" Victoria asks quietly. 

For the first time since this whole cancer thing started, Mark lets himself think about Eduardo as he remembers him, smiling and caring and the best friend Mark had ever had. He thinks about Chris and Dustin and how he wants to see Chris get married. He wants to see his nephews and nieces being born and he wants to see Sean finally settle down and he wants to see Eduardo again. 

He clenches his hands into fists and says, "I want to survive." 

 

Mark has good days and bad days; most days are okay, and then other days are like the day he ran into Sam, where he's exhausted and depressed and ragged and just wants to _sleep_. On those days, he stays in bed with Beast and tries to remember that he has a family and a company and people who would apparently miss him. 

It helps to have a schedule. He works as much as he can, he goes to therapy once a week, and he calls his parents every two days to keep them updated. He sees Sean most days, usually for lunch or dinner. He walks Beast twice a day, talks to Chris or Dustin at least once. On his good days he can do all of these things and only feel a little more tired than average at the end of the day. 

The bad days get worse after Hazel dies. He knows, intellectually, that he wants to live, but it's one thing to know that and another to wake up with his whole body aching and covered in sour sweat, feeling so listless that he can't even work up enough energy to look at the pieces of code Dustin sends him. 

There's one particularly bad day that starts out all right, and then around noon, he's hit with a wave of despair so heavy that he can't breathe. He lies down in one of the conference rooms until he doesn't feel like he's going to cry anymore and then texts Sean to pick him up. 

He has an old bottle of prescription sleeping pills in his cabinet from when Sheryl had been convinced that he didn't sleep enough. He takes them out when he gets home and opens the top. He isn't sure how long he stands there , staring at them, but he's interrupted by Beast, who nudges at his calves and whines curiously. 

He puts the cap back on, but takes it upstairs and puts it in the drawer of his bedside table.

 

Eduardo has a routine. 

Every morning, he wakes up and does yoga, which his first girlfriend in Singapore had taught him, then takes a shower and eats breakfast while watching the weather report. He picks up coffee on the way to work and brings one to Ethan, who he had gone on one date with before they decided they were better off as friends. He works, eats lunch at his desk or in the building cafeteria, and goes home. Sometimes he goes out on dates, though that happens less now. He has settled and he likes it. Singapore had originally just been an escape for him, the furthest place he could imagine from Boston and Palo Alto, but now, it's home. He's happy. 

And then Sean calls and says, "Mark has cancer," and the bottom falls out of Eduardo's world. 

He clutches the phone to his face, breath coming quick and shallow. "How long? How long has he known?"

"Four months," Sean says. He sounds weird, and it takes Eduardo a moment to realize that Sean is tired. "Mark didn't want you to know, but I'm – I'm worried about him."

"Four months?" Eduardo echoes. He can't breathe, and he keeps staring at the post-it on his computer that says, _buy bread_. "He's known for four months?"

"He thought you wouldn't want to know," Sean says, sounding disgusted. "But he's been acting kind of weird recently and his chemo friend just died and – I don't know if you're still angry at him or whatever, but he needs you, so if you could just put that aside –"

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Eduardo says. Sean says something else, but Eduardo is already pulling up flights to San Francisco, seeing what's still available. He finds a flight for the day after next and clicks on it. The ticket price is astronomical, but he buys it anyway. 

Sean is still rambling on the other end, and Eduardo tunes back in to hear, "– he thought you wouldn't care, I don't even know why, but it's good, I know we have our differences but we can –"

"Sean," Eduardo says, loudly. "I'm coming. I have a ticket. I'll be there in two days." 

Sean exhales. "Oh. Good. You can stay with me if he kicks you out, but I think it'll be best if you're there to, I don't know, keep him company."

"How is he?" Eduardo asks quietly. He still can't quite believe it, can't imagine Mark sick, but he knows that Sean wouldn't have called unless it were serious. He wishes that Sean had called sooner, but then, he hasn't exactly talked to Mark over the last five years. 

But he thinks about him a lot, more than he did right after the lawsuit, actually, because now Eduardo can acknowledge that he was stubborn and hot-headed and that he didn't understand what Mark wanted from the company. Now he can think about the good times he'd had with Mark, and sometimes he even misses him. 

He had always assumed they would have time to make up. 

"He's – all right," Sean says after a moment. "All things considered. But it isn't good. The kind of cancer he has – it has a fifty-fifty survival rate."

"Shit," Eduardo breathes. He pinches the bridge of his nose and swallows. "Thank you for calling."

"Thanks for caring," Sean says. 

After Eduardo hangs up, he goes to find his boss and explains the situation as simply as he can. He has plenty of vacation time saved up, but she just nods and says, "Of course, take as much time as you need."

"I can work from Palo Alto," he says. "But I'm staying there until – as long as I need to."

"It's fine, Eduardo," she says. "If you can work, do it, but your friend needs you." She reaches out and gives him a rough, awkward hug. "He'll be in my prayers."

"Thank you," Eduardo says, and he closes his eyes briefly for a prayer of his own. 

The flight is awful and far too long. He tries to sleep through it, but every time he closes his eyes, he hears Sean's voice in his ear again, repeating, "Mark has cancer."

Sean picks him up at the airport, which is incredibly bizarre for many reasons, but he doesn't try to talk to Eduardo other than to tell him where Mark's hidden key is. He looks exhausted and his hair is buzzed short, which is weird to see, and Eduardo doesn't feel like talking anyway. 

Sean lets him into Mark's house and says, "He'll be back from work in an hour, probably," just as a huge bundle of white fur comes bounding up to them. Sean kneels to scratch the puppy's head and adds, "This is Beast."

Eduardo looks around the house and is suddenly reminded of the gulf of years existing between the Mark he knew at Harvard and the Mark who is the youngest self-made billionaire in the world. There are things he recognizes, like the mess of laptop cables on the dining table and the computer sitting on the kitchen counter, but then there are also photos of people Eduardo doesn't recognize and books on Mandarin Chinese and, of course, the dog. 

The last time Eduardo had talked to Mark, they had made stilted small talk and Eduardo had done his best to be polite to Mark's boyfriend, who had not even bothered to hide his boredom. Mark seemed happy, though, and more relaxed than Eduardo had ever seen him. Mark had often played at relaxation, mostly when he had known it would annoy others, but his shoulders had been loose, his smile had been real. 

There's a photo on the mantelpiece that catches his eye. It's shoved in the corner, out of the light, and if Eduardo hadn't been looking, he wouldn't have seen it. He pulls it out into plain view and sees that it's an old photo from Harvard, him and Mark and Dustin and Chris sitting on the couch at Kirkland. Eduardo and Mark are sitting next to each other, so close together that Eduardo is briefly jealous of his twenty year-old self. Dustin is perched on the armrest and is in the process of falling over. Mark is smiling, looking at Eduardo, and Eduardo is laughing at Dustin while Chris looks vaguely resigned. 

Eduardo remembers the photo, had even had a copy for himself ages ago. Randi had dropped by the dorm room to take a picture and prove to her parents that Mark had friends, in her words, and she had made them pose on the couch. 

They look very young. Eduardo touches the glass of the picture frame and blinks hard, swallowing against the lump in his throat. 

Eduardo goes to bring Beast into the living room and settles down to wait for Mark to come home. After a moment, he turns on the television so he can drown out his thoughts.

 

At first, Mark thinks he's hallucinating. But he blinks and pinches himself and rubs his eyes and Eduardo is still sitting on his couch, scratching Beast's head. The TV is set on the Weather Channel and there's a suitcase sitting by the coffee table. 

"Wardo," Mark says, voice cracking. 

Eduardo turns and sees Mark. His mouth falls open a little, and Mark is alarmed to see his eyes start to well up. "Mark," he says, getting to his feet. "I –"

Mark stumbles forward the few feet between them and pitches forward into Eduardo's chest. Eduardo's arms instantly go up to wrap around his shoulders. They stand there for a moment, not moving, and then Mark says, "I am going to kill Sean."

"You can't prove it was him," Eduardo says, sounding choked. "And I'm _glad_ he told me, Mark. I can't believe you thought I wouldn't want to know."

Mark tries to pull back so he can look at Eduardo's face, but Eduardo clings on tenaciously, clutching at Mark's shirt. "Wardo, you're going to have to let me go eventually."

"Never," Eduardo says, but he releases Mark anyway and lets him take a step back. "God, you look awful."

"Thanks," Mark says, rolling his eyes. "Why are you here?"

"Because you need me," Eduardo says. 

For a moment, Mark feels like he's nineteen again, with the full flush of youth and impetuousness and Eduardo at his side for all of it. Then the weight of his exhaustion and the years without Eduardo come rushing back and he doesn't know what to say. The Eduardo standing before him is a little broader in the jaw and shoulders, a little more lined, and Mark hasn't really talked to him in five years, more if he doesn't count the lawsuits. 

"Anyway," Eduardo continues, turning to grab his bag, "I'm here to stay until you're better, so show me to your guest room." 

"You don't have to –" Mark starts. Eduardo holds up a hand.

"I know," he says quietly. "But I think – for this, we can put everything behind us, can't we?"

Mark nods and says, "Yes." He smiles. "I'm – glad you're here."

 

Eduardo does exactly what Mark would have guessed if he had let himself imagine Eduardo knowing about him. He straightens Mark's house up and looks in the kitchen with a dismayed expression and decides that they're going grocery shopping. Beast, the traitor, has already decided that Eduardo is his new favorite so they bring him along. 

"I thought Sean said he was taking care of you," Eduardo says as he pushes a cart around the store. 

Mark frowns. "He has. He takes me to chemo and he, well, he called _you_ and Dustin and Chris –"

Eduardo looks back at Mark and Mark suddenly realizes that Eduardo had been teasing. "No, I know," Eduardo says. "He's done a good job." It sounds like he finds that physically painful to admit, and Mark grins. 

"He has done better than I expected," Mark admits. "I kind of – I thought he would cut and run when things got difficult."

"Maybe it's because he's learned when to ask for help," Eduardo says mildly. He reaches up to snag a box of cereal off the top shelf. "It's okay to need people, Mark."

"I feel like you're trying to teach me something," Mark says dryly. 

Eduardo flashes him a wry smile. "Sorry. I'll stop."

"I – no, you're right," Mark says. "I didn't want pity."

Eduardo nods. "I understand that." He puts his hands on his hips and looks down the aisle. "I don't know what it is you're allowed to eat."

Mark shrugs. "Pretty much anything, but the chemo makes me feel sick."

"So light," Eduardo says to himself and he starts mumbling under his breath, the way he used to when he studied. He moves through the aisles like a soccer mom on a mission and Mark trails meekly behind him, only occasionally adding his input. 

"I think you bought the whole store," Mark says, eying the cart when Eduardo is finished demolishing the produce section. 

"I left one or two apples for the next family," Eduardo says, grinning as he pushes the cart towards the cash registers. 

"Well, at least we won't get scurvy," Mark says, starting to unload the cart's contents onto the checkout counter. 

It's easier than he would have expected, being with Eduardo. The awkwardness is still there, their years apart an unspoken presence, but they're both trying. Eduardo makes jokes about Sean, but the bitterness that Mark remembers from five, six years ago is gone. 

"What happened to that guy you were seeing?" Eduardo asks as they head out to the car with their purchases. "What was his name, Steve?"

"Sam," Mark says. "He left me, uh, seven months ago?" He shrugs. It doesn't bother him anymore, hasn't bothered him in a while. "I wasn't in love with him or anything."

"Still, that sucks." Eduardo stops and drags Mark into another hug. "You shouldn't be alone right now."

"I have Sean," Mark points out, voice muffled by Eduardo's chest. "And Beast."

"Sean isn't always around and Beast is a dog," Eduardo says in a long-suffering tone of voice. "Don't be stupid, you know what I mean."

"You're my nursemaid?" Mark suggests. 

"Yes," Eduardo says. He releases Mark and pops the trunk of the car. "For the foreseeable future."

They eat dinner sitting on the couch with Beast trying to jump up and lick their plates. Mark clicks his tongue and scolds him gently, shooing him off. When he looks up, Eduardo is watching him with wide, sad eyes. Mark has to look away, suddenly conscious of the bare skin at the nape of his neck and the shadows under his eyes. He picks at his food until Eduardo sighs and says, "It's okay if you're not hungry."

"It's good," Mark says guiltily as Eduardo takes the plate from him.

"It's all right," Eduardo says. "Be sure to eat if you get hungry, okay?"

"Yeah," Mark says. As Eduardo goes back to the kitchen, he takes off his beanie to scratch at his bare scalp. He's about to tug it back on when he hears Eduardo come back. 

"Oh," Eduardo says, sounding startled. "I mean – I figured –"

Mark looks at him and tugs the beanie down. "I know it's weird."

"No! It's just – I don't know, I was surprised." He comes to sit down next to Mark. "Can I see?"

"You want to look at my bald head?" Mark asks in disbelief. 

"It's okay if you're embarrassed –"

"I'm not _embarrassed_ ," Mark says, and he takes his beanie off again to prove it. 

Eduardo touches the skin above Mark's ear lightly with just the pads of his fingers. "Do you get cold?"

"Yeah," Mark says, trying not to shiver at the weirdly ticklish sensation of Eduardo's touch. "That's why I always wear the beanie."

"Is that the only reason?" Eduardo asks, sliding his hand to cup the back of Mark's head, each finger a point of warmth against Mark's scalp.

Mark looks down at his hands. "I look like a cancer patient without it," he admits. "With it, too, I guess, but it's more obvious without it and I – I don't like it."

Eduardo drops his hand away and Mark feels naked, suddenly, the air cold against him. "I think you look brave without it," he says. 

Mark thinks about that as he's trying to fall asleep that night. He can still hear Eduardo moving around downstairs. It's nice to have someone in his house again, someone else to fill the empty spaces. That it's Eduardo is even better. 

He doesn't think he's brave, not really. Hazel had been brave because she had faced her peers every day knowing that they were all waiting for the day when she'd die. She had been brave because she had a crush and dreamed of going to college and Mark – Mark has a bottle of sleeping pills in his bedside table. 

He isn't brave, not really. 

The next day is one of the bad ones. Mark wakes up and he just _hurts_. The idea of getting out of bed is so repellent that he closes his eyes again, swallowing against the bitter taste in the back of his throat. 

He manages to doze for about half an hour before Eduardo comes to investigate. "Mark?" Eduardo calls, rapping lightly on the door. "Are you up?"

"Yes," Mark says, voice low and rough. "You can come in."

Eduardo pushes the door open and gives Mark a sunny smile. "I've made breakfast –"

"I'm not hungry," Mark says, and he rolls over onto his side so he doesn't have to look at Eduardo. 

"You have to eat something," Eduardo says, coming into the room. He sits down on the edge of Mark's bed and wraps his hand around Mark's ankle. "Are you not feeling well?"

Mark makes a noise; he means it to be an "uh-huh," but it comes out more like a muffled sob. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see Eduardo's face. "I just want to sleep," he says quietly. 

"All right," Eduardo says after a beat. "Is it okay if I sleep too? My internal clock is pretty messed up."

"Why would I care?" Mark asks irritably, and he waits for Eduardo to leave.

"Good." Eduardo climbs over Mark's legs and lies down on his other side. "I promise I don't kick."

Mark rolls over and stares at Eduardo, who is lying flat on his back with his eyes closed. "What are you doing?"

Eduardo opens his eyes and slides his gaze toward Mark. "Trying to sleep."

"Here?" Mark asks in disbelief. 

"Shh, go to sleep," Eduardo says. He reaches over and drags Mark towards him. Mark is disgusted by the way his body automatically curls in towards him, but Eduardo is radiating heat and he smells nice and it's been seven months since Mark has had someone else in his bed. He tucks his head into Eduardo's shoulder and closes his eyes again. For a moment, he feels loved.

 

Eduardo goes out to lunch with Sean after Mark falls asleep again, which is weird in and of itself, but what's even stranger is that he actually wants to _see_ Sean. But Sean is the only one who has been there with Mark since the beginning and he wants – needs – to know everything.

Sean is wearing sunglasses and jeans with an incredibly expensive suit jacket when Eduardo meets him in front of Pizza My Heart, which makes Eduardo roll his eyes. They eat on the Facebook campus for some complicated reason of Sean's, and they don't talk for the first twenty minutes. It's almost nice.

"How is he?" Sean asks when he finishes his pizza. 

Eduardo chews thoughtfully. "Depressed," he says eventually. "He was glad to see me, but he is –" Eduardo can't think of a word to describe the hollowed out look of Mark's face, but he thinks Sean knows, anyway. "It's worse than I thought."

Sean nods. "He had a rough few weeks."

"Could you tell me?" Eduardo asks. There's a tiny part of him, the part that still houses his angry, possessive twenty-one year-old self, that hates that he's asking Sean for information about Mark, but he has to acknowledge that Sean knows Mark better now. "Just so I have some context."

So Sean tells him about running into Sam and Hazel dying and Mark telling the employees. Eduardo manages to stay quiet through the whole story, despite the very strong urge to interrupt during the part about Sam. When Sean finishes, Eduardo is quiet for a minute while finishes his pizza. Then he says, "And you punched him?"

"Sam?" Sean asks. "Yes. God, what a tool."

"And if you're saying it," Eduardo says, a little more snarkily than he intends. 

"Fuck off," Sean says comfortably. "He _is_ , okay? I – I never told Mark this, but I know Sam cheated on him more than once before he left." He tips his head back and sighs. "I saw them when I was out. I was going to tell Mark, but then Sam broke it off before I could."

"God," Eduardo says, shaking his head. "I'm glad you punched him."

"Me too," Sean says emphatically. There's a brief, awkward pause. Then Sean says, sounding grudging, "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," Eduardo says. "I – thank you for, um. Taking care of Mark."

They look at each other and for a moment, Eduardo sees why Mark has stuck by Sean all these years. Sean can be a coward and a weasel, but he's determined and smart and he knows when he's needed. And he's changed since Eduardo first met him, too. He's grown up. But then, they all have. 

"It's my pleasure," Sean says, sounding surprisingly sincere.

After lunch, Eduardo drops in on the offices to see Dustin and Chris, who Sean says are busy helping plan Mark's announcement to the press. Chris looks exhausted and harried, his normally impeccable clothes wrinkled, but he smiles widely when he sees Eduardo and says, "Oh, thank god you're here." He turns and pokes Dustin in the back. "Hey, Eduardo's here."

Dustin looks just as tired as Chris, yet his grin is just as bright and happy as always. Dustin wraps Eduardo in a tight, painful hug, and Eduardo can feel him shaking a little. "Oh _man_ it is good to see you."

"You guys look almost as bad as Mark," Eduardo says, looking between the two of them. "How long have you been here?"

"What time is it?" Chris asks, looking around. 

"Just after one," Eduardo says. 

"Then about –" Dustin pauses and counts on his fingers. "Twenty-seven hours?"

"Jesus." Eduardo grabs them by the arms and marches them over to where he had seen some couches. "Sit down and _rest_ , you two are just as bad as Mark."

"Take that back," Dustin says, pointing at him. "We're almost done, Eduardo, I promise."

"We just had to call and talk to _every news source_ in the country first," Chris says wearily, leaning back and closing his eyes. "But we're making the announcement in three days, if that's all right with Mark."

"We've been trying to keep anyone from reporting on it," Dustin adds, "which is not easy." He reaches over and hits Chris's knee. "Suddenly I appreciate you much more."

"Thanks," Chris mutters dryly. "Could you talk to him about it? We'll need something short from him, preferably, but I can write something for him if he isn't up to it."

"I'll ask," Eduardo says, but the memory of Mark's gaunt, haunted face and that horrible, _broken_ noise he had made is still strong in his mind. He isn't sure that Mark is up to anything, really.

"Thank you." Chris closes his eyes again. "God, how did Mark do this all the time?"

"We were twenty," Dustin points out. He has shifted so that his head is resting on Chris's thigh, and Eduardo smiles to see them acting the way they always had at Harvard, unthinkingly affectionate and close. All that's missing is Mark on the end of the couch, his laptop balanced on his knees. 

"Right," Chris says. "That."

"I'm going to go back to Mark," Eduardo tells them. "Get some rest."

Dustin flaps his hand dismissively at Eduardo. "Yeah, yeah, Mom." 

Eduardo rolls his eyes and waves before heading out the door to his car, feeling upbeat again. The feeling lasts until he gets into Mark's house and is confronted with dead silence. He can't even hear Beast moving around, and for a moment, Eduardo's heart stops, panic rising in his chest. 

He takes the stairs two at a time, holding onto the banister for balance, and jogs down the hall to Mark's room. The door is slightly ajar, just the way he left it earlier, and he steps inside, stomach twisting and his heart pounding so hard he feels like it might jump through his ribs. 

Mark is still fast asleep, Beast curled up along his side. Eduardo lets out a heavy sigh and learns against the doorframe. His eyes are burning; he rubs at them angrily and moves further into the room to sit on the edge of Mark's bed. 

He is struck, again, by how thin Mark looks. Mark had always been skinny, with delicate bones and little extra weight, but he has lost even the slight padding he'd had. His cheekbones jut out sharply, the hollows of his cheeks shadowed, and he looks exhausted constantly, the thin skin under his eyes purple and bruised-looking. Eduardo cracks open a little every time he looks at Mark and sees the evidence of Mark's life leeching away, inch by inch. 

"God, Mark," Eduardo says quietly, wrapping his hand around what he thinks is Mark's ankle.

Beast rouses and lifts his head curiously. Eduardo scratches behind Beast's ear, smiling fondly, and whispers, "Hey, boy. You taking good care of Mark?"

Beast yips. Mark stirs and rolls onto his side, making a soft noise in his sleep. Eduardo bites his lower lip and scoots closer to Mark. It's weird to see Mark so still; Eduardo can only remember a few times at Harvard where he had seen Mark sleeping, and even then Mark had been in movement. He had thrashed around in his sleep and kicked and would wake at the slightest noises unless he was truly exhausted. 

"You're staring at me," Mark says suddenly, voice thick with sleep. "I can feel it."

"Sorry," Eduardo says, smiling despite himself. "I was just – thinking."

Mark opens his eyes and looks slantwise at Eduardo. "That's new for you, isn't it?"

"You're awful," Eduardo says fondly, reaching out to rest a hand on Mark's shoulder. "How are you feeling? Do you feel up to some food?"

"I could eat," Mark says, grabbing at Eduardo's shirt for leverage as he struggles to sit upright. "What time is it?"

"A little after two," says Eduardo. He gives into the urge to rest the back of his hand on Mark's forehead. Mark endures it with ill grace, his mouth twisting into an uncomfortable smirk. His forehead doesn't feel too warm, which is reassuring, but Eduardo decides he's going to make soup anyway. "Come on, you can rest on the couch if you're still tired."

He has to help Mark out of bed, which is disheartening, and Mark leans on him heavily all the way downstairs. Eduardo leaves him on the couch with Beast and goes into the kitchen. He braces himself against the counter and sucks in a slow, steadying breath. He closes his eyes and tries to remember Mark as he first knew him, young and vibrant and sure. It's harder than it should be to recall how Mark looked, but he remembers Mark saying, "Did your shirt come that ugly or has someone already thrown up on it?" and he remembers walking back across Harvard campus in the crisp October night, talking about the most random things. 

It makes him feel a little better, and he starts opening up the cabinets to find a pot, humming to himself. 

 

The day that Chris and Sheryl release the press statement about Mark's illness, Sean drives to Amy's apartment with a bottle of vodka, knocks on her door, and announces, "We're getting drunk," when she opens up. 

To her credit, Amy doesn't even question it, just says, "Cool," and snatches the bottle from his hand. "Let's do this."

She doesn't ask until four drinks in, when Sean is feeling buzzed and slightly off-kilter but not in the making-bad-decisions range yet. He has his head in her lap, and she's absently stroking her fingers along his short hair while she talks aimlessly about her thesis. He has just started to feel relaxed when she asks abruptly, "Is this about Mark?"

"I don't know what you mean," Sean says evasively, shutting his eyes. 

"Please," Amy scoffs. "Over the past four months, taking care of Mark has been your whole life. And I know something big is happening today, there have been some rumors going around, so would you like to explain to me why you're here and not there?"

"It's just the press release," says Sean uncomfortably. "I mean, anyone who has _seen_ him has probably figured it out, but Chris has managed to keep it out of the press until now –"

"Sean, honey," Amy says softly. "You're avoiding the question."

"I don't think it's that important," Sean lies. 

"Please," Amy scoffs. "Tell me the truth. Why aren't you with Mark?"

Sean sighs noisily and throws an arm over his eyes. "He has Eduardo now," he says, voice muffled. "He doesn't need me."

It's funny, because Sean used to see it the other way around; he made Eduardo, stupid, innocent, set-in-his-ways Eduardo obsolete and he had never felt that much guilt about it because Eduardo had been holding Facebook back. He had only really regretted it during the lawsuit, when he watched Mark grow more and more withdrawn and bitter. He knows Mark has missed Eduardo. He's seen Mark a couple times since Eduardo came back and he's _so much_ _happier_. Sean is the obsolete one now.

Amy smacks the top of his head and Sean jerks up. "Amy!" he squawks indignantly, glaring at her. "What was that for?"

"You're an idiot," Amy says. "Give me your keys, I'm driving you to see Mark. 

"No!" Sean says. 

"If you honestly think that Mark doesn't want to see you right now, you deserve to die alone," Amy says. "Give me your keys, or I'm reaching into your pants for them." 

"Amy –"

Amy reaches forward and shoves her hand into his pocket. Sean yelps as she gropes around for his keys and tries to push her away. She steps back, keys clutched in her hand, and says triumphantly, "Aha!"

"This is abuse in some countries," Sean says grumpily. "Can you drive?"

"I've only had half a drink," Amy says, pointing to her glass, which is, indeed, still half full. "Stop trying to put this off. Nut up."

"Did you really just say that?" Sean asks, trailing behind her as she heads downstairs. 

"And you'd better not come back here unless Mark kicks you out," Amy says, ignoring him. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, Mom," Sean sighs. He makes a face. "Ew, that was grosser than I meant it to be."

"Get in the car," Amy says, unlocking the doors and swinging herself into the driver's side. "And stop it." 

"You're no fun," Sean pouts, but he gets in and lets her drive him to Mark's house. She walks him to the door, ostensibly to keep him from falling over, but she gives him a quick kiss on the lips at the door. 

"I'm taking your car," she tells him while he's still staring at her and trying to figure out what just happened. "See you later." She turns and starts walking down the path. 

"Bye!" Sean says belatedly, and she turns to flash him a quick smile before pantomiming knocking. He makes a face at her and squares his shoulder before knocking on the door. 

He shifts uncomfortably on the doorstep while he waits. A minute later, Eduardo opens the door and says, "Oh, good," before practically dragging Sean inside. "Could you keep Mark from reading stuff online? I have to go pick up some food for Beast and he's going to go on Gawker or something equally ill-advised if someone doesn't watch him."

"I'm not a child!" Mark yells from somewhere in the house. 

Eduardo rolls his eyes at Sean in a weirdly companionable way and brushes past him on his way to the car. "Good luck," he calls back over his shoulder. 

"Thanks," Sean says dryly. He hears Eduardo yell something back, but it's lost amidst the sound of his car starting. Sean closes the door and heads into Mark's house, looking around. "Mark?"

"I'm in the living room," Mark calls back, sounding grumpy. Sean follows the sound of his voice and opens the door to find Mark sitting in front of the TV. His laptop is closed and set off to the side, but Mark keeps looking at it like he can't help himself.

"I'm surprised you didn't open that laptop as soon as Eduardo left," Sean says, flopping down next to Mark. "He's got you trained good."

"Shut up," Mark says grumpily. "What are you doing here?"

"Ouch," Sean says, clutching his hand to his chest. "I see how it is."

Mark rolls his eyes. "You know that's not what I meant."

"It's been a while, man," Sean says, words coming out casual and light, even as he scrutinizes Mark's appearance. He looks happier, sure, but he doesn't look any _healthier_. "How's it going, having Eduardo here?"

Mark frowns. "It's weird. It's like – like the lawsuit never happened, almost."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Sean asks. "You guys were best friends."

Mark rubs at his eyes, for a moment looking like nothing so much as an overgrown toddler. "I like having him around, but he's hard to read, sometimes."

Sean, who thinks that Eduardo is laughably transparent, makes a noncommittal noise. "But you're glad he's here?"

"Yes," Mark says after a moment. "Thanks. For calling him."

"No problem." Sean reaches over Mark for the remote and turns the television on. "And you're doing okay, with the announcement and everything?"

Mark scowls at the reminder. "I want to see what they're saying but Eduardo thinks it would stress me out. Have you read anything?"

"Nope," Sean says easily. He finds a channel that's playing _Troy_ , just because he knows Mark will get distracted by complaining about the story inaccuracies, and settles in as Mark makes a noise of disgust. "And I don't plan to."

Mark just grunts, already absorbed in watching the film, his face set in an angry scowl. Finally, he bursts out, "That is _not_ what is supposed to happen!" and Sean grins. 

Eduardo comes back about fifteen minutes later and comes into the living room with Beast trailing in his wake. Sean watches in amusement as Eduardo sits down on Mark's other side, closer than necessary. Mark shifts into Eduardo's side a little, and Beast curls up on their feet, panting happily. Sean suddenly feels like an intruder, like he's looking in on a private, intimate moment. 

And then he realizes that he isn't obsolete, not really; Mark has Eduardo, sure, but Eduardo is something different to Mark than Sean is, different, even, than what he was five years ago. He would have to be; ex-best friends don't drop everything to fly halfway around the world, not unless there's something more at stake.

Sean isn't sure they've realized that yet. 

Halfway through the movie, Mark goes on a rant about Achilles and Patrocles, which has Eduardo doubled over in laughter, his breath coming in weird wheezes. Sean snorts and watches Mark watch Eduardo. Mark is smiling faintly, his cheek dimpling, and he's looking at Eduardo with an expression Sean hasn't seen in years. It's his Eduardo face, happy and cautious and disbelieving all at the same time.

Beast, no doubt startled by Eduardo's laughter, chooses this moment to jump up, barking, and Eduardo gives into his obvious ploy, lifting Beast onto his lap to pet him. Beast tucks his nose into Eduardo's armpit and wuffles, making Eduardo yelp in surprise. Mark starts to giggle, that little high-pitched noise that he makes when he's trying not to laugh, and Eduardo gives him a look that's probably _meant_ to be a glare, but looks more fond than anything. 

They order pizza and eat it while watching _Arrested Development_ on IFC. Eduardo has never seen any, prompting Mark to try to explain the show until Sean hits him in the shoulder and says, "Jesus, just let him watch, Mark."

"I just don't want him to be confused," protests Mark, but he shuts up and leans against Eduardo. He looks tired, but he seems happy and Sean thinks that's more important right now. 

Mark goes up to bed after the second episode is over, Beast following in his footsteps. The moment Mark has cleared the room, Eduardo lunges forward for the laptop and shoots a guilty look at Sean. "I need to know what people are saying," he says, opening up the computer. 

Sean nods and leans back, craning his neck a little to get a look at the screen. "Good or bad?"

Eduardo is quiet for a moment as he looks at an email from Chris. He lets out a quiet sigh and says, "It seems pretty good. There are some of those people who are – you know. They hate Mark anyway."

"Yeah," Sean agrees. "But no one has showed up to bother Mark, so it must not be too bad."

"Chris says you might have to put off the IPO for a little longer," Eduardo says, still scrolling. "But other than that, the response has been very supportive."

Sean tilts his head to the side and eyes Eduardo thoughtfully."And what about you?"

"What about me?" asks Eduardo absently. 

"Are you, uh." Sean scratches the back of his head. "You're all right?"

Eduardo looks up, a slight smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "You're asking me if I'm okay? You?"

"Shut up," Sean says, rolling his eyes. "Mark needs you. You don't know what it was like before you were here. I think – I think he has more good days with you around."

Eduardo blinks, swallows – and then starts to tear up. Sean stares at him, aghast, and looks around helplessly for something to give to Eduardo to keep him from crying. Eduardo scrubs at his face with his hands, looking angry, and says thickly, "I wish I had known sooner."

"Um," Sean says. "I would have called, but I didn't realize that Mark –"

"It's not your fault," Eduardo says dismissively. "And that's not what I mean. I'm afraid I don't – we've wasted so much time being angry with each other. Sometimes I think – maybe it would have been better if I hadn't come back."

"Better for you," Sean says, frowning. "Not for Mark."

"Is it really better for Mark?" Eduardo asks in that annoyingly self-pitying way he had. "I mean, would he really be so much worse off if I hadn't come back?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Sean bursts out. "Would you rather that Mark died without ever getting to see you again?"

Eduardo goes red, and he crosses his arms defensively. "He isn't going to die –"

"We don't know that!" Sean says. "You've looked at him, haven't you?"

"Don't _say_ that," Eduardo says desperately. "I don't want to – I can't – he _can't_ die, Sean, he just can't."

"You saying that isn't going to make it come true," Sean says. "Stop pretending this is about Mark, we both know that really you're afraid of losing him."

"Aren't you?" shoots back Eduardo. 

"Of course I am!" Sean says. "But because I'm not a self-pitying _moron_ like you, I'd rather spend the time he has with him rather than avoiding reality on the other side of the globe."

Eduardo groans and folds in on himself, propping his arms on the top of the laptop. "I _know_ , okay? I know. It's just hard and now I feel so _stupid_ for thinking we had so much time."

"If you're going to back out –" Sean starts. 

"Fuck off, I'm not leaving him," Eduardo says furiously, turning to glare at Sean so fiercely that Sean actually moves away. "Sorry, I just thought we were having a – a moment or something and that I could share my fears with you or whatever. It's not like I can say any of this to Mark."

Sean blinks at him. After a moment, he says, "I nearly went to my dealer, the first time Mark got his chemo."

Eduardo looks down and picks at his trousers. "What stopped you?"

"I knew that Mark trusted me," says Sean. "And I couldn't prove him wrong."

Eduardo is silent for almost a full minute. Sean fidgets and wonders if he made a mistake in telling Eduardo about that. Eduardo had always been kind of annoyingly moral. But then Eduardo says, "You're not as awful a person as I always thought," a slight smile quirking his mouth, and Sean has to laugh, because that's practically a formal letter of recommendation coming from Eduardo. 

"Thanks," he says cheerfully. He leans over to close the laptop and raises his eyebrows at Eduardo. "Now, what do you have to drink around here?"

 

Mark comes down the next morning and finds Sean passed out, facedown, on the sofa. There's an empty bottle of vodka on the floor next to his dangling hand. Mark snorts, then tugs a blanket off the back of the couch and covers Sean up. 

Eduardo is drinking coffee in the kitchen, looking exceptionally hungover. His eyes are red and his hair is sticking straight up, which is so funny that Mark giggles. Eduardo's head jerks up and he presses a finger to his lips. "Shh," he says in a decidedly slurred manner. 

"What did you guys _do_ after I went to sleep?" Mark asks, picking up an orange from the counter. 

"We bonded," Eduardo says, apparently in all seriousness. He sips at his coffee and makes a face. "God. You have terrible coffee here."

Mark shrugs as he peels his orange. "I don't drink coffee."

"Obviously." Eduardo gets up to dump his mug down the sink. "Okay, I'm going to go get real coffee from somewhere. Do you want anything?"

"Donut?" Mark asks hopefully. 

"Just this once," Eduardo says, waving his finger at Mark. He heads out of the kitchen, humming under his breath. Mark stares after him, heart racing for some reason. He looks down and realizes that he has pressed his thumb into the flesh of the orange and its juice is leaking over his hand. 

He eats the orange slowly, thinking about nothing in particular. He has just finished with the last slice when the doorbell rings. Mark huffs, amused, and pads into the entry hall, prepared to make fun of Eduardo for forgetting the house key again. 

But when he opens the door, Eduardo isn't standing there; it's Sam. 

Mark freezes, staring up into Sam's face. He's suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he's wearing a ragged shirt and that his hands are stained with orange juice. He hates it that Sam is seeing him like _this_ , with his head bare and looking ragged. He shifts from foot to foot and waits for Sam to speak. 

"Hi," Sam says after a minute. "I heard the news."

Mark crosses his arms tight against his body, feeling vulnerable. "All right."

"And I'm sorry," Sam says. "I shouldn't have called you a liar."

"It's fine," Mark says stiffly. "It was a bad situation."

"And I shouldn't have – you know," Sam says vaguely. "You were just so _difficult_ to live with sometimes and –"

"Sam," Mark says tiredly, leaning against the doorframe. "I've already apologized."

"That's not what I meant," Sam snaps. "Mark – I'm here to say that I'm around, if you need me."

"If I need you?" Mark asks slowly, staring at Sam. "If I _need_ you?"

"Well, yeah," Sam says, frowning. "You shouldn't be alone at a time like this."

"Why would you assume that I'm alone?" Mark demands. "Just because you never thought I was worth the _effort_ doesn't mean other people agree."

"Now, hang on, you know that's not how I meant it –"

"I have people," Mark says sharply. "I have plenty of people who care about me _just the way I am_. You left, you left ages ago and you had the chance, all right? You've had your chance to – to be there for me and you _didn't want_ me." He's breathing hard by the end, but he feels lighter, somehow. 

"Mark," Sam says quietly. He looks at Mark with that sad expression he had always used when he wanted to get his way and Mark – doesn't feel anything. He looks at Sam, with his handsome face and his attempt at a smile, and just sees the man who left him for someone else. It's a startling revelation; he had wondered, often, if Sam had been his last chance at something approaching love, but now he thinks maybe he had lucked out. If Sam had been around, he might not have gotten Eduardo back. 

"I think you should go now," Mark says. Behind Sam, he sees Eduardo pulling up in his car. He tries to think of something to say and comes up with, "Thank you for stopping by."

"Hey, Mark, whose car is –" Eduardo calls as he rounds the corner of the garage towards the front door. He stops when he sees Sam and says, "Uh."

"Hey, Wardo," Mark says. "This is –"

"Sam," Sam says, holding out his hand. 

Eduardo eyes it like it's diseased. "Really."

"I was just coming by to offer my sympathies –"

"Pity," Mark mutters under his breath.

"— to Mark and to say I'm around if he needs help," Sam says, only the faintest twitch giving away the fact that he had heard Mark. 

"That's very, hm, _kind_ of you," Eduardo says, voice heavy with sarcasm, "but Mark doesn't need you."

Sam looks between Mark and Eduardo. "Did you tell him about – about me? Who even is this guy?"

"I think you should go now," Mark repeats. Eduardo's knuckles have gone white on coffee carrier in his hand, and he looks so angry that Mark is genuinely worried that he might throw coffee in Sam's face, hangover be damned. "Sam. Please go."

Sam backs off the porch, gaze shifting anxiously between Mark and Eduardo. "I'll call you," he tells Mark before practically fleeing to his car. Mark watches him go, then looks at Eduardo. 

"You didn't have to be mean to him," he says. "I can take care of him myself."

"I wasn't being mean to him for you," Eduardo says, still glaring in the direction of Sam's car. "God." 

Mark waits. When Eduardo makes no move to come inside, he says, "Wardo."

Eduardo looks at him and nods. "Right." He climbs up the porch and into the house. Mark closes the door behind him and follows him into the kitchen. Eduardo pulls a cup out for himself and hands a paper bag to Mark. "Are you all right?" he asks abruptly. 

"What?" Mark asks, distracted by the contents of the paper bag. Eduardo apparently remembered that his favorite is chocolate glaze with sprinkles. "I'm fine."

"Really?" Eduardo asks. "Even though Sam came by?"

Mark looks up. "Is that what you're worried about? Wardo, we broke up more than six months ago. And I – I don't think I loved him. I was sad when he left, but I got over it." 

Eduardo stares at Mark, chewing on his lower lip. Mark looks back, trying to figure out what Eduardo is thinking. The truth is that Mark is more comfortable with Eduardo than he ever was with Sam, even with the five years of anger and recriminations between them. Eduardo _knows_ him and doesn't want to change him, remembers tiny things like what kind of donut Mark likes and drops everything for him. Eduardo is the kind of person Mark can imagine spending the rest of his life, no matter how long or short that is, with; Sam isn't. 

"I just want you to be happy," Eduardo says quietly, looking at Mark earnestly. "You'd say if you weren't, wouldn't you?"

Mark shrugs. "Sure."

"This is what I'm here for." Eduardo reaches out and touches Mark's arm, his touch feather-light. Mark looks down at Eduardo's long fingers, tan against Mark's pasty skin, and has to swallow hard. He feels unaccountably strange, his stomach twisting in knots like he's nervous, but it's just Eduardo here – well, and Sean, who is still sleeping on the couch, his snores faintly audible even in the kitchen. "Mark?"

Mark jerks, startled, and Eduardo's hand falls away from his arm. "Thanks," Mark says, and he picks up the donut again. 

Sean stumbles into the kitchen a few minutes later, a crease mark from the couch running down his cheek. "Morning," he mumbles, grabbing the extra cup of coffee out of the holder and stumping over to the kitchen table. Mark grins a little and catches Eduardo doing the same. Eduardo glances over at him and his smile somehow grows wider. 

Mark's breath catches in his throat for a moment; then Eduardo looks away and he can breathe again. 

 

Eduardo goes with Mark to his check-up before his next round of chemo. He sits in the waiting room for two hours, reading old copies of _Forbes_ and checking the clock intermittently. It's just ticking past noon when a nurse comes out and calls, "Mr. Saverin? Mr. Zuckerberg wants you in here for this."

Eduardo puts down his magazine and follows her through a windy series of hallways until they arrive at the office where Mark is waiting. His beanie is pulled down low, nearly to his eyebrows, and when he looks at Eduardo, his eyes seem empty. 

"Mark?" Eduardo asks hesitantly. He looks up at the doctor, whose face is set in a studied, serious expression. "What's going on?"

"Please sit down, Mr. Saverin," the doctor says, gesturing to the seat next to Mark. "Mark doesn't have anyone listed as his medical proxy, but he says he wants you to be here." 

"What's going on?" Eduardo repeats, sinking down into the seat next to Mark. "Doctor – I'm sorry, I don't know your name." 

"Jacobs," she says. She looks down for a moment, then says, "I'm afraid that Mark's tumor has not been responding to the chemotherapy treatment."

Eduardo goes cold. "What does that mean?" he croaks, reaching out blindly for Mark's hand. Mark's fingers are clammy against his and he grips onto Eduardo's fingers so tightly that Eduardo can feel his blood circulation being cut off. "Is he –"

"So far it doesn't seem that the cancer has metastasized at all," Dr. Jacobs says, holding up her hand. "But our best option now is surgery."

"It's on his spine," Eduardo says when Mark doesn't say anything. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"It is," Dr. Jacobs admits, taking off her glasses. "I'm not going to lie to you; this is a very risky operation. But we have a fine surgical staff and the lead surgeon has performed many similar operations successfully."

"What are the chances?" Mark asks suddenly, voice coming out harsh and rough. 

"That's not something I like to say," Dr. Jacobs says. "With surgery, it's always difficult to tell. However, this is by far your best chance at surviving, and if we're lucky, we'll be able to completely remove the cancer."

"I need to think about it," Mark says before Eduardo can speak. 

"What?" Eduardo asks, looking at Mark. "No, Mark –"

"Thank you, Dr. Jacobs," Mark says, standing up. "I will let you know."

She stands up as well and holds out her hand to shake. "Victoria is always on call if you need her," she says. 

Mark nods curtly and looks at Eduardo. "Come on," he says.

"Mark –"

"Let's _go_ ," Mark says, and he stalks out of the room. 

"I'll talk him into it," Eduardo tells Dr. Jacobs, getting up as well. 

"Mr. Saverin," Dr. Jacobs says, "if Mark doesn't want the operation, then that's his choice."

"It's a selfish choice," Eduardo says fiercely, glaring at her. "Don't you think he should survive?"

"I think all my patients should survive," Dr. Jacobs says. "Sometimes I disagree with what they choose, but if there's ever a time to be selfish..."

Eduardo shakes his head, biting his lip hard to hold back the tears. "I can't let that happen, Dr. Jacobs. You have to understand that."

She looks at him for a long moment. "I do," she says quietly. "Good luck."

He nods and heads out into the hall. He finds Mark in the waiting room, looking stubborn and angry. "I don't want to talk about it," is the first thing Mark says. "I have to think about it, okay?" 

"Okay," Eduardo says even though he had been planning on demanding what the hell Mark is thinking. Mark looks so breakable right now, so small, that he can't shout at him, as much as he wants to. "Let's go home."

He curves an arm around Mark's shoulders as they leave the hospital; Mark doesn't move away. 

They don't speak all the way back to Mark's house. Eduardo can't think of anything to say and anyway, Mark is obviously thinking and Eduardo doesn't want to bother him too much. He keeps thinking about what Dr. Jacobs had said – that this is a time for Mark to be selfish – but he can't abide that. He has the number for Mark's mother and no qualms about using it in this situation. He isn't losing Mark again, not when they can avoid it. 

"Is there anything in particular you want to eat for dinner?" Eduardo asks Mark as he unlocks the door. Mark shakes his head and slips out, looking exhausted. Beast comes running up to them, clearly hoping for a cuddle, but Mark ignores him and starts up the stairs, each heavy footfall loud in Eduardo's ears. 

Eduardo sighs and heads into the kitchen to start dinner. Beast joins him a few minutes later, looking forlorn. Eduardo refills Beast's water bowl and then has to sit for a moment, the anger and fear and sadness rushing over him in one fierce wave. Beast nudges his damp nose against Eduardo's shoulder and Eduardo turns to hug him, burying his face in Beast's fur. 

"I would miss him," he says to Beast, the words he hasn't been able to say to anyone else. "I need him to live."

Beast whines and sits. Eduardo laughs wetly and releases him. "Okay, you can go. I'm just having a moment."

He washes his hands and starts on dinner, focusing on the task at hand so he doesn't think about Mark lying in bed upstairs. He boils the pasta, sets it to drain, and has set the sauce to simmer when he decides to check up on Mark. 

Mark isn't in his bed when Eduardo goes to look, but the door to the bathroom is closed and Eduardo can hear Mark moving around inside. Eduardo goes to make Mark's bed while he has the chance and is in the process of plumping up Mark's pillow when he spots a small orange bottle sitting on the bedside table, its cap lying next to it. He frowns; they usually keep all of Mark's medication in one place downstairs. 

He picks it up and reads the label. It takes him a moment to remember why he recognizes the word _Seconal_ ; and then he gasps and tightens his hand around the bottle. It looks about half empty. 

He starts running, slamming the bedroom door out of his way as he passes, and shouts, "Mark! Mark!"

Mark doesn't answer. 

Eduardo skids to a halt in front of the bathroom door and pounds his fist on it, nearly incoherent with panic. " _Mark_ , answer me! Open this door _right now_ or I'm calling the police. And your mother!" he adds desperately. "Mark, _please_!"

"Go away!" Mark shouts back, his voice splintering into sharp, painful shards. 

"No!" Eduardo yells. "I'm never leaving you again, do you understand that? You are _never_ getting rid of me and I will stand here and yell at you for as long as it takes you to open this _goddamn door_ –"

There's a soft click that he only just barely hears over his yelling. He lunges for the handle and throws the door open to find Mark standing against the far wall, his hands clenched into fists on either side of him. Eduardo storms towards him and shakes the little, unassuming bottle in Mark's face. "Are you kidding me, Mark?"

Mark looks up at him, jaw set defiantly, and Eduardo is startled to see that Mark's eyes are damp. He doesn't say a word though, doesn't even protest when Eduardo empties the bottle into the toilet or when Eduardo yanks his hands out of his pockets and shakes the pills out of his palm. Eduardo flushes twice, just to be sure, then slumps down onto the floor next to the toilet and starts to cry. 

Mark slides down next to him, still not speaking. Eduardo reaches out blindly for him and clutches onto whatever parts of Mark he can, reassuring himself that Mark is still there, that Mark hadn't done anything stupid. 

"I wasn't – I just look at them, sometimes," Mark says after a moment. "It's an option, isn't it?"

"No," Eduardo says fiercely. "It isn't, Mark. You have to fight this, do you understand me? You can't just _give up_."

"They said the surgery is risky," says Mark. "What if – what if something goes wrong? What if I end up paralyzed or worse?"

"You'll be alive," Eduardo says, moving his hand up to cup Mark's cheek. "Do you understand how important that is to your family? To Sean and Dustin and Chris? And what about _me_?" 

"Wardo –"

"You have people who _love_ you, Mark," Eduardo continues, holding Mark's face in place so he can't look away. "If you think that we would stop because of that, you're not half the genius everyone likes to say you are. You can't do this. Don't do this to me, Mark, I can't – I don't want to – please."

Mark closes his eyes and nods slowly. Eduardo can feel the muscle in Mark's jaw twitch before he speaks. "You're right," he says, voice thin and faint. "I'm sorry, Wardo."

Eduardo lets out a breath and leans in to clumsily press his face into Mark's shoulder, only somewhere along the way Mark shifts, and Eduardo's mouth brushes Mark's cheek. Mark shudders and clutches onto Eduardo, eyes fluttering open. 

"Are you one of them?" Mark asks. His eyes are glittering, fever-bright, and his cheeks are flushed. 

"One of who?" Eduardo asks, feeling as though he's falling forward into something and can't stop. His stomach is swooping, his hands feel trembly, and he can't stop looking at Mark, drinking him in with his eyes. 

"One of the people who loves me," Mark says. When Eduardo doesn't answer immediately, he says hurriedly, words tumbling over each other, "I know that – I don't deserve it, you have every reason to hate me, only you _don't_ for some reason and I don't know how it is we became friends again, but –"

Eduardo covers Mark's mouth with his hand and says, "Of course I am."

Mark stares at Eduardo for a moment, then knocks Eduardo's hand aside. They move towards each other at the same moment and come together in an ungainly meeting of mouths and teeth, sharp and desperate. Eduardo pulls Mark closer to him and slows the kiss with a hand at the back of Mark's neck. He wants to savor this, to memorize the feeling of Mark shifting against his chest and the taste of Mark's lips. His fingers bump against the edge of Mark's beanie and he gently tugs it away so he can run his fingers over Mark's bare head. Mark groans and wraps his arms around Eduardo's waist, sliding forward so he's sitting in the vee of Eduardo's legs. 

Eduardo pulls back reluctantly after far too short a time, but he doesn't let Mark go, keeping a grip on the back of Mark's neck. He has no intention of letting Mark out of his sight again. "I had dinner cooking."

"I'm not hungry," Mark says, trying to kiss Eduardo again. Eduardo turns his face aside, but Mark just presses his face into Eduardo's neck, lips moving against Eduardo's ear. 

"You need to eat," Eduardo says weakly. " _Mark_."

"Wardo," Mark says in his ear. " _Please_."

Eduardo stands up, pulling Mark up with him. "Only if you eat," he says, quivering at the tacit promise. 

Mark huffs irritably, but doesn't try to get away when Eduardo takes his hand. Eduardo leads him downstairs and makes him sit at the kitchen table so he can watch him. Through some stroke of luck, the pasta sauce isn't too badly ruined, so he makes two plates and puts one in front of Mark. Mark picks at it until he catches Eduardo watching him. He pointedly picks up his fork and starts shoveling noodles into his mouth, which makes Eduardo laugh. 

"I finally found a good motivational tool for you," he says wryly. "Ten years too late, but I guess that happens."

Mark makes a face at him and says, "I don't know that I would have been smart enough to take you up on the offer ten years ago."

"I wouldn't have been smart enough to _make_ the offer," Eduardo says. He watches Mark eat and wonders if this _could_ have happened when they were younger, if his feelings for Mark now are all that different from when he was twenty. He doesn't think they are; but somehow everything seems much clearer to him. Death has a way of bringing the important things into focus. Mark has always had a way of anchoring Eduardo, becoming the center of his attention and social life, both positively and negatively. He pulls Eduardo in, every time, and this time Eduardo isn't going to try to escape it. 

He cleans up after they finish eating, acutely aware of Mark's eyes on him the whole time. He tries not to give away how much he's longing to take Mark upstairs, reasoning that one of them has to be sensible about the whole thing, but that plan is shot when Mark gives up on waiting and comes to take the plates out of his hands. 

"Can't that wait?" he asks, a funny little smile on his face. Eduardo lets Mark put the dishes in the sink and he pulls Mark in towards him, wrapping him in his arms until Mark relaxes. 

"I won't want to do them later," Eduardo says. "But fine. We can leave them for now."

" _Good_ ," Mark says, breaking free of Eduardo's grip. "Come on." He grabs Eduardo's hand and tugs him towards the stairs. Eduardo lets himself be towed, having to smile at Mark's determination. It's good to see Mark _excited_ about something, that same familiar single-target expression on his face. 

It is a little strange when they get into Mark's bedroom; the air suddenly feels much thicker, full of potential and promise. Eduardo closes the door so Beast can't wander in and then stops, looking at Mark. He's gotten used to the bald head now, almost can't picture Mark with a full head of curly hair. Mark's eyes are shadowed and his cheekbones are even sharper than usual, and Eduardo can't look enough. He wants to soak in every line and wrinkle of Mark's body until he can reconstruct him in his mind. 

"Are you just going to stare at me?" Mark asks suddenly, and Eduardo glances up. Mark is a little flushed, his mouth set in an irritable line. 

"Maybe," Eduardo says, but he reaches out to pull Mark in by the waist anyway. Mark tilts his face up to Eduardo, eyes sliding to half mast. There's a breathless moment where they just look at each other, neither one about to make the first move. Then Mark lets out a noisy sigh and surges up on his toes to kiss Eduardo, his hands scrabbling for purchase in the short hairs at the base of Eduardo's head. 

They kiss until Eduardo's mouth feels swollen and Mark's lips are puffy and red. Eduardo runs a finger over Mark's lower lip and Mark actually moans, closing his eyes and leaning into it. It's an interesting reaction, one Eduardo fully plans on exploring later, but for now he's more interested in getting Mark to the bed. 

He's fascinated by the constellation of pale freckles decorating Mark's back and ribs, traces his finger from one to another until Mark is squirming and trying not to laugh. The dimple in his cheek gives him away. Eduardo kisses him there, laughing when Mark makes a face. 

"You're weird," Mark says, apparently unironically. "And you still have your shirt on."

Eduardo looks down. "I do," he agrees, and he rolls them over so Mark is sprawled on top of him. "Want to do something about that?"

Mark grins, all teeth, and rips Eduardo's shirt open in one savage gesture. Eduardo hears a button hit the wall and another lands by his ear. He opens his mouth to protest, but that's when Mark licks his nipple and he starts so violently that Mark nearly falls off him. 

"Sorry," Eduardo gasps, grabbing for Mark. "Sorry, you surprised me."

Mark rolls his eyes at Eduardo and starts working on Eduardo's trousers. "I kinda figured."

Before Eduardo can respond to that, Mark gets Eduardo's pants and briefs down and has leaned down to take Eduardo's erection in his mouth. Eduardo props himself up on his elbows, trying very hard not to be distracted by the admittedly extremely distracting feeling of Mark's mouth on him, and says, "Isn't that position a little hard on you?"

Mark pulls off with a decadent slurping noise that makes Eduardo twitch and gives him a disgusted look. "I'm trying to give you a blow job right now, Wardo."

"I know, I'm here too," Eduardo says. "I just want to make sure you're –"

"Happy? Let me blow you and I'll get back to you on that front," Mark says, and he ducks back down before Eduardo has a chance to say anything else. Eduardo's head thumps back against the pillows and he decides to defer to Mark's decision-making in this instance. 

Eduardo taps Mark's shoulder when he feels like he's about to come and Mark pulls off, wiping his mouth and wincing. "Ugh."

"Are you okay?" Eduardo asks, concerned, as Mark moves up to lie next to him, shimmying out of his sweatpants as he goes. Mark is frowning down at his dick, which Eduardo notices is still soft. "Mark –"

"I want this," Mark says urgently, looking at Eduardo. "My – Dr. Jacobs said this happens, sometimes."

"I know," Eduardo says, rolling over onto his side so he can look Mark in the face. "Mark, it's fine."

Mark closes his eyes, clearly frustrated. "It _isn't_ , I like this, I want you to fuck me –" Eduardo can't help his involuntary shudder in response to that. "—and my stupid penis isn't cooperating."

Eduardo snorts and then starts to laugh in earnest. Mark pouts at him, disgruntled, which only makes him laugh harder. "I'm sorry," he manages to say, "but that just sounded so weird."

"I'm glad you find this amusing," Mark says, although the corner of his mouth is starting to twitch up a little too. 

Eduardo kisses him until Mark starts kissing back. "It's fine," he says to Mark. "Come on, lie on your side. Maybe I can get you interested."

It's kind of a strange sensation, pressing his thigh between Mark's legs and feeling Mark's dick feebly swelling. Eduardo moves slowly, kissing Mark's ear, neck, shoulder, any part he can reach, really, and ignores his own neglected erection. Mark is making these delicious, desperate noises, and Eduardo takes note of which places make Mark squirm. He slides his hands down to pull Mark against his thigh, urging him to rub against him. 

"Come on," Eduardo says in Mark's ear. Mark presses against him, sweat beading on his upper lip, and Eduardo licks that away, kisses Mark and strokes the backs of his thighs, the smooth curve of his ass, until Mark gives a strange little shudder and shake, coming on Eduardo's thighs. 

Mark can't stop shaking, and Eduardo tries to soothe him with his hands as he carefully moves his thigh out from between Mark's legs. "Mark?"

"I haven't – it's been a long time since even –" Mark blinks rapidly. "Thank you."

"I didn't do much," says Eduardo, gently chafing the cool skin of Mark's shoulders. 

"Well, let me finish what I started," Mark says, slipping his hand between them to wrap his fingers around Eduardo's much-neglected dick. "Leaving you with blue balls doesn't seem very fair."

Eduardo doesn't hold back his groan when Mark strokes him, and it takes hardly a minute before he comes, spilling over Mark's hand and onto the bed. Mark trails his fingers through the damp spot with a scowl, and Eduardo leans forward to kiss his forehead before heading to the bathroom for a towel. 

When he comes back, Mark has curled up on his side. Eduardo goes to pick out a pair of boxers for Mark then, after thinking about it, takes one for himself. He wipes himself off with the towel, then passes it to Mark along with the boxers, and shimmies into his borrowed pair. 

"Don't go back to your room," Mark says suddenly, looking over at Eduardo as he pulls on his underwear. 

"I wasn't going to," Eduardo says, frowning at him. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

Mark shrugs. "I kick. And I, uh, have night sweats. I know it bothered S – it's annoying."

Eduardo bites back the angry reply he has for that and climbs into bed beside Mark. "I told you," he says, gently pressing Mark back down, "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Mark curves in towards Eduardo, looking down. He's quiet for a minute or two and Eduardo thinks he's about to fall asleep when Mark asks, "Do you think about – about Harvard? And everything?"

"Of course I do," Eduardo says. "I – I made a lot of mistakes."

Mark looks up at that. "Eduardo –"

"No, it's true. I can accept that now," says Eduardo. "I didn't know what I was doing."

"I did," Mark says quietly. "I did know what I was doing and I'm – I should have done it differently, Wardo –"

Eduardo reaches out and presses a finger to Mark's lips. "Don't stress yourself out, Mark, it happened nearly ten years ago."

"Aren't you _angry_ , though?" Mark asks when Eduardo moves his hand away. "Every time I've seen you, you still seem – like you're mad at me and then you come here and you don't even say _anything_ about it, it's – it's weird."

"Of course I was angry," Eduardo sighs. "But what's the point anymore, Mark? There are more important things to worry about." He kisses Mark's forehead. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't want you to be here just because I'm – because I'm dying," Mark says obstinately. "I'm _glad_ you're here, but that isn't the only reason, is it?"

"I came because I care about what happens to you," Eduardo says. He pulls Mark in closer to him and puts his chin on top of Mark's head. "Now go to sleep."

Mark huffs out, but he falls silent and after a minute or so, his breath evens out and slows to a steady rush of air over Eduardo's collar. Eduardo strokes his back and wishes he could hold onto this moment, put it in a bottle and keep it safe forever. "I don't want to have to miss you again," he says quietly.

Mark doesn't stir. Eduardo closes his eyes and lets himself drift off as well. 

 

To Mark's surprise, Victoria is pleased when he tells her about Eduardo. She leans forward, balancing her clipboard on her knees, and says, "This is very good, Mark."

"Shouldn't I, you know, not be forming attachments right now?" Mark asks, frowning at her. "In case I die?"

"Attachments are what keep people going." Victoria taps her fingers on the edge of her knee. "And Eduardo is very important to you, obviously. You kept not wanting to talk about him, do you remember that? Nothing else was off-limits. Only him."

"I didn't think he'd want to – I hate thinking about things that can't happen," Mark says. He rubs his face. "I wish he hadn't come back, sometimes."

"Why not?" asks Victoria. 

"It would be easier to just – say no to the operation," Mark says. "But then there's _Eduardo_ and I can't – we haven't even talked properly, not about what happened before."

"What is it you want to say to him?" 

There are so many things that Mark wants to say to Eduardo, things he wants to ask him. He has realized that there are very simple things about Eduardo that he doesn't know, like what flavor of ice cream is his favorite or where he had his first kiss. And Mark hates that he wants all of that, because no amount of time would be enough for everything he wants with Eduardo. And his time is slipping away, faster than he wants, and he would be _fine_ with that if only it weren't for Eduardo.

"Mark?" Victoria asks gently, and he realizes that he had forgotten to answer her question. 

"Sorry." He looks at her. "You know, I thought you were going to try to convince me to have the operation."

Victoria shrugs. "It's your choice, Mark. Would you like my opinion, though?"

"Sure," Mark says. 

"I think you're scared," Victoria says softly. "You're scared because you think Eduardo will leave you if you get better and you're scared you might be damaged in the operation and you're scared because you've gotten used to the idea that you're dying and you don't know what you'll do when you get that time back." She lets that sink in for a moment before saying, "So what?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, his hands clenching at his sides. 

"I mean so what? Yes, those are all possibilities, but at least they are possibilities. Without the operation, you only have one certainty," Victoria says. "You would really rather have that?"

Mark eyes her and says, "You _are_ trying to convince me."

"I'm just saying that I know what I'd pick if I were in your situation," Victoria says. "And I want you to think about why you don't want the operation. Is it because you genuinely think it would be better? Or is it because you're afraid?"

"It's –"Mark starts, but Victoria holds up her hand to stop him. 

"I don't want an answer," she says, smiling a little. "I just want you to think about it."

Mark sits back and sighs. "All right."

So he does think about it, and he does research on the hospital staff, and he notes the way Eduardo keeps looking at him, with huge, sad eyes, especially when Eduardo thinks Mark won't notice. He thinks about it for almost a week. He makes his decision while lying in bed next to Eduardo, his mouth sore from kissing. He rolls over to look at Eduardo and says, "I'm going to have the operation."

Eduardo doesn't move for a moment. Then he turns his head to look at Mark, and Mark is disturbed to see that Eduardo's eyes are wet and shiny. "Oh, Mark," he says, breathlessly, and he pulls Mark to him, kissing him so frantically that Mark goes breathless. "Thank you, thank you –"

"It isn't because of you," Mark says despite himself. 

"I don't care the reason _why_ ," Eduardo says, rolling his eyes. He kisses Mark again, firmly, and releases him. "I'm so glad."

"Why are you crying, then?" Mark asks, reaching up to touch the damp edges of Eduardo's eyelashes. 

"I'm not crying," Eduardo says defensively. "Shut up." 

Mark kisses him, which makes Eduardo sigh and pull Mark in closer. "I'm doing this because I want to," Mark says when he pulls back. "Part of it _is_ because of you, but you're not the only reason."

"Okay," Eduardo says, stroking his fingers against the skin behind Mark's ear. "Okay. I'm fine with whatever reason and I will be here until you tell me to leave."

"I never want you to leave," Mark says, honestly, and Eduardo looks so sad that Mark kisses him again so he doesn't have to look at Eduardo's expression. 

He calls his mother in the morning. He hasn't told her anything about the operation for fear of worrying her, and he knows he was right not to when she starts crying and makes his father talk to him while she recovers herself. 

"We're going to come out for it," his dad says, sounding very definitive. "The girls, too."

"You don't need to do that," Mark says. 

"No," his dad agrees. "We're going to anyway."

"Thank you," Mark says, very quietly, and he looks up to see Eduardo watching him. "I'm glad."

It's Eduardo's idea to call Chris, Dustin, and Sean over for a dinner to tell them the news in person, which Mark wants to veto purely out of reluctance, but Eduardo has the phone in his hand before Mark can protest. Eduardo looks at Mark, waiting, and Mark sighs before saying, "Yeah, go ahead and call them." 

"I won't if you don't want me to," Eduardo starts, and Mark just rolls his eyes at him. Eduardo pats Mark's hand and goes into the kitchen to make a call. 

Eduardo touches him a lot now, Mark notices, just light touches to the back of the arm or on his shoulder or his hip, like Eduardo is trying to reassure himself that Mark is still there. Mark doesn't mind, exactly, but he keeps thinking about what will happen to Eduardo without him. He still has a large empty spot in his will waiting for Eduardo, and he can't think of anything important enough or significant enough to give to Eduardo, something that will say, _I love you and I don't want you to have miss me, either._

"They're coming on Wednesday," Eduardo says, coming back into the living room. He kisses the top of Mark's head and sits down next to him. Mark closes his eyes and leans his head on Eduardo's shoulder, smelling the clean scent of whatever aftershave he uses. "Are you tired?"

"No," Mark says. Eduardo wraps his arm around Mark's shoulders, squeezing. "Can we go to bed?"

"But if you're not tired –" Eduardo starts, and then he stops himself. "Oh," he says, in a very different tone. "Are you feeling up to it?"

The truth is that Mark doesn't feel any more inclined to sex now than he has since he started chemo, but he wants to carry the memory of Eduardo's mouth and hands with him into the operating theatre. He doesn't say that, knowing it'll make Eduardo look sad, and instead smirks up at Eduardo. "If you are."

 

Sean guesses that something is up when he gets to Mark's house and finds Chris and Dustin are already there, both of them with wine glasses in their hands. Chris is scratching Beast's head, but eyeing Mark with no small amount of suspicion. Mark is sitting very close to Eduardo on the couch and Sean notices that Eduardo's arm is actually around Mark's shoulders, his fingers just lightly touching Mark's neck. 

He decides not to say anything and instead accepts the glass Eduardo hands him with only the slightest smirk. He drinks his wine and waits for someone to speak. Finally, when no one seems about to speak up, he says, "What's going on?"

Mark and Eduardo exchange looks, which makes Sean even more suspicious, and then Mark sets down his water glass. "The tumor isn't shrinking," he says. 

Dustin nearly drops his drink. "What?" he asks, eyes huge. "Mark, oh my god, are you –"

"Shut up, let him finish," Chris says, waving his hands. "And?"

"My last option is to have an operation to remove it," Mark says. He isn't looking at any of them now, and Eduardo's hand has dropped to actually rest on Mark's neck. "It's risky. But my doctor says it's my best chance."

There is a long pause where no one speaks. Sean looks at Chris and Dustin and sees his own feeling of horror and shock and worry reflected on their faces. Dustin looks stricken, and his hand shakes when he lifts his wine glass to his lips. 

"How risky?" Chris asks quietly. 

"They have a good surgical team," Eduardo says hurriedly before Mark can speak. "The only thing is that it's near his spine."

"Excuse me," Dustin says, and he flees in the direction of the bathroom. 

Chris sighs and stands up. "I'll go check on him," he says. 

Once Chris is gone, Sean stretches back in his seat and says, "So the two of you are sleeping together now."

Eduardo chokes on his wine and starts coughing. Mark looks at Eduardo with an expression that said he wanted to help, but isn't sure how. To Sean's amusement, Mark gingerly pats Eduardo on the back until Eduardo recovers. 

"I, um," Eduardo says, looking for a moment as though he wants to deny the charge. He apparently gives this up as a lost cause because instead he asks, "How did you _know_?"

Sean shrugs and looks at Mark. Mark is smiling at Eduardo, almost unconsciously, and he turns red when he catches Sean watching him. "I notice things."

The doorbell rings and Eduardo says, "That must be the food. I'll get it," he adds, pressing Mark down into his seat. He leaves, and Mark's smiles almost instantly slides off his face, leaving him looking old and sick and tiny again. 

"When's the operation?" Sean asks, sliding forward. "You didn't say."

"Monday," Mark says. He reaches for his water again and sips at it. Abruptly, he sets it down and fixes Sean with a sharp eye. "Sean, I need you to do something for me."

"Okay," Sean says warily. "What is it?"

"If something happens to me – and don't make that face, we both know that it's possible – if something happens to me, I need you to keep an eye on Eduardo for me." Mark passes his hand over his face and sighs. "He's going to need someone."

"Mark –"

"I shouldn't have let him –" Mark shakes his head. "I knew it was stupid, but I can't, I couldn't say no." He bites his lower lip and looks down. "I care about him too much to let him lose himself. Chris has his fiancé and Dustin has Chris and his girlfriend, and you have Amy, but Eduardo needs someone."

"But _me_?" Sean asks. "He doesn't even like me!"

"You're the only one I trust with this," Mark says. He looks up, and Sean is shocked to see that Mark's eyes are red and raw-looking. "Please. Promise me."

"I promise," Sean says, softly, and Mark nods, satisfied. 

"Thank you," he says quietly as Eduardo comes back into the room, bearing an armful of Chinese food in bags, and his smile returns. This time, Sean notes the way Mark stares at Eduardo, almost hungrily, and the way Eduardo hardly strays more than one or two feet away from Mark. 

Chris and Dustin come back, Dustin looking more composed and relaxed than before, and they don't talk about Mark's cancer or the surgery for the rest of the evening, instead choosing to get drunk and eat as much Chinese food as they can. As the night goes on, Eduardo and Mark seem to forget to keep their distance, drifting closer together until Mark's head is resting on Eduardo's shoulder. To their credit, Chris and Dustin do not comment on this, although Chris shoots Sean a questioning look that Sean answers with a small nod. 

After they finish dinner, Sean leaves Mark's house and drives straight to Amy's place, feeling off-kilter and in need of her sensible attitude. She lets him in and says, "You look like shit."

"You know, this is why I love you," Sean says fondly. "You don't pull your punches."

"Never," Amy agrees. She kisses his cheek and leads him to the couch. "Sit, I'll bring you some food."

"I've already eaten," Sean says. He slides down to lie down and he stares at her spackled ceiling. He has less than a week left with Mark before the surgery, he realizes, and if anything happens, those will be the last memories Sean has of him.

"All right," Amy says. She sits down on his feet and shakes his shoulder gently. "Then why are you here? Not that it isn't a pleasure, but usually you come here to mooch off me."

"I –" Sean pauses. "I don't know why I came here, actually. You're the only one I can talk to about this."

"About Mark?" she asks. When he nods, she pushes him over a little so she can lie on the thin strip of couch left to her. "What's up?"

"His tumor isn't shrinking," Sean says. He's amazed by how even his voice is, particularly when he hears the catch in Amy's breath. "They're going to have to operate." 

"Oh, Sean," she says. She turns over on her side so that she's facing him. "Honey, are you all right?"

"It's not me that matters," Sean says, frowning at her. "Mark is the one who's dying."

"And he's your best friend," says Amy. "Don't pretend that he isn't." 

Sean closes his eyes and nods. "Yeah." 

"So can I ask you again – are you all right?" Amy touches his face, gentle and light. "Sean."

He tries to breathe in and can't; Mark is so tiny now, so weak, and Sean hates to think of Mark that way because he knows Mark would hate it. But he pictures Mark going into that hospital to have them cut into his back and he can't imagine how it could go well. He had though Mark would have been able to beat it with chemo and a positive attitude – isn't that what the fucking Secret was about? – and if anyone can burn a disease out of his body with sheer, angry willpower, it's Mark. 

But instead the disease has burned up Mark's body into a shell of what he once was and Sean doesn't want to have to imagine living without Mark, but he's had plenty of time and more than enough creativity to paint himself a picture of how empty his life would be without Mark around. Sean has other friends, has a lot of them, actually, but he's always been able to count on Mark. Mark would find him places to work and bail him out of jail and drive him home from rehab, and Sean knows it's selfish to think about those things rather than how changed the world will be without Mark or how Eduardo will probably be so heartbroken that he won't be able to function, but he doesn't _care_. 

"What if he dies, Amy?" Sean asks, voice cracking. "I can't – he's my best friend." 

Amy pulls him in towards her and wraps her arms tightly around his waist. "I know," she says quietly. He breathes in the scent of her minty bodywash and clutches her shirt, feeling more lost than he has in years.

They lie together for a while before Amy murmurs, "You should sleep," and gets up, pulling him with her. He follows her docilely and can't even work up enough energy to make a sly comment when she changes into her pajamas. He lies down on her bed and closes his eyes, but he isn't able to get to sleep for a long time. 

 

Eduardo does his best to keep Mark upbeat and happy in the days leading up to the operation. They go out on dates to the movies or to dinner. Sean comes over sometimes and they get drunk and talk. Other times Chris and Dustin join them and they play video games or watch TV. Mark seems in fairly good spirits, all things considered, and Eduardo is happy that he's happy. 

Mark's family arrives on Saturday and takes Eduardo and Mark out to lunch. It's been years since Eduardo has seen any of them, and he's never even met Mark's youngest sister. Randi and Karen both hug him, which takes him by surprise. 

"Good to see you again, Eduardo," Randi says, giving him a smile. "It's been too long."

"It has," he agrees. He turns instinctively to look for Mark and watches as Mark hugs his younger sisters and father. "It's good you guys came."

"How is he?" Karen asks quietly. "He hardly tells us anything when he calls, not about how he's feeling."

Eduardo bites his lip, running through the things he could tell them and choosing his words carefully. "He's – all right. There was a while where he was really depressed, I think, but I think he's doing better." 

Karen looks sad at this, but she nods. "Thank you." Mark looks back at them and Eduardo smiles instinctively. Mark smiles back, and Karen lets out a soft noise. 

"You make him happier," she says after a moment. "You always did."

He looks at her. "I don't know about always."

"Maybe not always," she agrees, "but he cares about you. I'm glad the two of you are close again."

"Me too," Eduardo says.

He doesn't think much about the patterns he and Mark have fallen into until about halfway through lunch, when he gets up to go to the bathroom and absently kisses Mark's forehead as he goes. He catches the surprised look on Randi's face and winces. 

When he comes back, Randi says, "I didn't realize you two were –" She gestures vaguely. 

Mark, who has been quiet for most of lunch, now says, "It's new."

"I figured as much," Randi says with a smile. "I'm happy for you."

Eduardo reaches for Mark's hand under the table and smiles back at her. "Thanks," he says. 

Mark glances at Eduardo and smirks a little. Eduardo kicks his ankle lightly and starts eating his sandwich again. He doesn't let go of Mark's hand. 

When they part ways from the Zuckerbergs at the end of lunch, Karen gives Eduardo another hug and murmurs in his ear, "Take care of him."

"I will," Eduardo promises. She pats his cheek fondly and lets them go. Eduardo wraps his arm around Mark's shoulders and wishes he didn't have to let him go, ever. 

 

Mark can't sleep the night before his operation. His stomach keeps jumping and his brain won't stop racing long enough for him to fall asleep. After an hour of lying in bed, mind racing, Mark slides out of bed and goes downstairs to do something. Beast is asleep in his dog bed in the kitchen, though he wines a little when Mark passes. Mark leans down to pat his head and goes to the living room to sit on the sofa. He turns the TV on and sets the volume low, but he doesn't really watch, instead staring at the wall and trying not to think about how his mother had been red-eyed and sniffly the entire time when they had eaten lunch with Mark's family earlier. Donna and Arielle hardly even looked at him, and Randi had tried so hard to pretend like things were normal that it had made Mark wince. 

He had been actually relieved when they had parted ways, which he still feels guilty about now. He's glad his family came, he really is, but there's an added sentiment of importance and finality attached to the gesture. It makes him uncomfortable. He prefers Sean's matter-of-fact offer to get him drunk to the worried sentimentality of everyone else. 

The soft sound of socks on wood alerts him to Eduardo's presence before Eduardo appears in the doorway of the living room. "Hey," he says quietly. "Can't sleep?"

"Obviously," says Mark. Eduardo's mouth jerks up in a quick, almost involuntary smile. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Eduardo says, going to sit down next to Mark. "I couldn't sleep either." He cautiously puts his arm around Mark. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," lies Mark. 

"Sure," Eduardo says. "That's why you're awake at –" He glances at the clock and whistles, low. "Two in the morning."

Mark doesn't bother replying to that. Instead, he shifts so his head is resting against Eduardo's collar. "I'll fall asleep eventually."

Eduardo kisses the top of his head. "I can't sleep unless you do."

Mark turns his face up and kisses Eduardo more fully, pressing his hand against Eduardo's chest, right against his heart. Eduardo shivers and Mark feels his heartbeat speed up underneath his fingers. Eduardo pulls Mark on top of him and wraps his arms around Mark's waist, hugging him tightly. Mark squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore the tightness in his chest. 

Eduardo falls asleep before Mark for once, but Mark is still too jittery to rest. Instead, he goes back upstairs and pulls out a sheet of paper from his shelf. He brings it back downstairs to the kitchen table and writes a letter in as steady a hand as he can. He folds it up, writes Eduardo's name across the front, and slips it into his pocket. He returns to the living room and watches Eduardo sleep for a while, trying to memorize the smooth lines of Eduardo's face. Then he lies back down next to Eduardo and closes his eyes, determined to sleep this time.

The morning comes too soon and too bright. Mark dresses slowly, trying to delay the moment he has to leave for the hospital until the last possible moment. Eduardo sits and watches him, not saying anything. Mark swallows hard when he catches Eduardo's eye in the mirror. 

"Ready?" Eduardo asks once Mark is dressed, his voice flat and lifeless.

Mark shrugs and slumps out of the room and down the stairs. Beast seems to sense the mood hanging over them, because he merely whines and nudges his face against Mark's knee. Mark kneels and hugs him tightly. Beast licks his cheek affectionately. 

Eduardo touches Mark's back gently. "Mark. We're going to be late."

Mark bites back his instinctive reply of _I don't care_ and nods. "Just one minute, okay?"

"All right." Eduardo steps back. 

Mark hugs Beast again and whispers, "Take good care of him for me, okay?"

Beast presses his nose against Mark's in acknowledgement. Mark gives him one last hug before climbing laboriously to his feet and looking at Eduardo. Eduardo's face is set in an expression of determined cheerfulness, but his mouth is wavering. Mark goes up on his toes to kiss Eduardo lightly, then leans back. "Let's go," he says. 

At the hospital, he changes into the gown alone and sits on the gurney in the prep room, the letter tucked against his side. He tugs the sheet over him, shivering, and swallows down his nausea. 

A nurse takes his vitals, then says, "Your family is here to see you. Would you like to see them?"

"Yes," Mark says immediately. She gives him a bright smile and leaves the room while Mark straightens up. 

A moment later, his entire family along with Sean, Eduardo, Chris, and Dustin come streaming in. His mother throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly before kissing his cheek and letting his dad and sisters hug him too. 

"Love you, little brother," Randi says, voice only wavering a little. "Do whatever the doctors tell you, all right?"

"They're knocking me out, I don't think I'm going to have much choice in the matter," Mark says, trying for levity. Randi laughs a little and pulls back to stand next to their mom. 

Donna doesn't say anything, just hugs him so tight that he can't breathe for a moment, and Arielle whispers, "I'm the one who stole your copy of _Gladiator_. I'm sorry." 

Mark kisses her cheek and gives her the best smile he can muster. "I always knew it was you."

Arielle giggles and wipes her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Yeah."

Chris squeezes Mark's hand tightly and says, "You're going to be fine." He seems to be saying it more for Dustin's benefit than his own; Dustin is pale and shaky, but he seems to brighten a little at Chris's words. "Or else."

Mark snorts involuntarily and Chris gives him a small smile before moving aside and letting Dustin move forward. Dustin opens his mouth like he wants to speak, but then he shakes his head and just hugs Mark. 

"Wardo," Mark says, his voice coming out croaky. "Wardo –"

"I'm here," Eduardo says, moving to stand next between Randi and Sean. He grabs Mark's hand, trying to smile. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry," Mark says, words tumbling out over each other. "I never said it before and I want you to know I _am_ sorry and I wish things could have gone differently."

Eduardo bites his lower lip and blinks. Mark has force himself not to cry when he sees tears clinging to Eduardo's eyelashes. "I know," Eduardo says hoarsely. "And I forgive you, Mark. Do you forgive me?" 

Mark can't stand to look at him any longer, so he closes his eyes and nods. "Yeah." He pulls Eduardo close to kiss him firmly, not caring that his family is still standing there. Eduardo kisses him back, desperate and longing. When he pulls back, his eyes are even more damp than before, although he manages to keep his composure. 

"I'll be there when you wake up," Eduardo promises, voice cracking. He kisses Mark again, just once, before withdrawing and letting Sean take his place. 

"Hey man," Sean says with almost the same flippancy as he usually has. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," Mark says, rolling his eyes. He pulls the letter out from under the sheet and hands it to Sean. "Could you give this to Eduardo?" he asks in a low voice. "If anything happens to me."

Sean eyes it as though it's radioactive, but he takes it anyway. "Mark –"

"You've been a great friend," Mark says, louder. "Better than anyone thought you would be. Thank you."

Sean stares at him, mouth working soundlessly for a moment. Then he hits Mark in the shoulder gently and says, "You'd do the same for me."

The nurse, who has been hovering nearby the whole time, says, "I'm sorry, but we need to get Mr. Zuckerberg in to surgery." 

"Mom," Mark says, voice growing thick as he looks around. "Mom, I –"

"I'm here, honey," his mom says, taking his hand. "We'll be here."

Mark closes his eyes and kisses her cheek before releasing her hand. "Thank you, all of you," he says, and he's humiliated that his voice catches. He tries to say something else, but starts to cry instead, shaking with fear and anger and reaching out for someone. He catches someone's hand and someone else's shirt, and then someone is hugging him, he can't see who. 

He can't quite stop crying all the way to the anesthesia room, even though he tries to stop. The doctors give him a minute to compose himself and he thinks about code so he doesn't have to think about all the people he loves most in the world waiting outside for him to come out. He looks over at them when he feels he has recovered himself and nods. 

"All right, Mark, lie back and count backwards from ten on my go," the doctor says as they hook an IV into his arm, and Mark nods. They put a mask over his mouth and the doctor gives him a thumbs up. 

Mark starts to count down, but only gets as far as seven before everything goes dark, and he sinks gratefully into unawareness. 

 

Sean can't stop fidgeting in the waiting room. He can't stand to read any of the terrible magazines they have and he hadn't had the foresight to bring a book to read, like Chris or his laptop, like Dustin. He's somewhat consoled to notice that Eduardo is empty-handed as he is, and that Eduardo keeps looking at the clock. 

He moves to sit next to Eduardo and says, "Wanna go get coffee from the cafeteria or something?"

Eduardo looks at him for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure." He gets up and turns to look at Mark's family. "Would you like anything?"

"Could you bring us back some water?" Randi asks. "Dustin, Chris?"

"I'm fine," Chris says. Dustin shakes his head, not looking up from his laptop. Eduardo nods and jerks his head towards the sign directing them to the cafeteria. 

They don't speak on the way. Eduardo seems lost in thought and Sean doesn't have anything to say, anyway. He keeps replaying the moment when Mark's face had crumpled in, even though he would really rather never think about it again. He has the feeling that Eduardo is thinking about it too; it had been unnerving, seeing Mark lose his composure like that. 

He buys a coffee for himself and waits while Eduardo buys coffee and five bottles of water for the Zuckerbergs. Sean hands him a five-dollar bill to help pay and Eduardo thanks him in a quiet, subdued voice. 

When they get back to the waiting room, Sean gives Mark's mother a bottle of water and is about to leave when she grabs his hand. "Please," she says, tugging gently. "We got to talk to Eduardo, but not you." 

"Um," Sean says, shooting a look at Eduardo, who just shrugs. "Okay."

He gingerly sits down next to her and sips at his coffee so he doesn't have to talk. She seems to be gathering her thoughts, because she just watches him for a minute. 

"You've been a good friend to my son," she says eventually. "I never thought I would say that. I heard about you from Randi or Christopher sometimes and I worried. But you've been good for him and I know that you've been the one taking care of him."

"Eduardo helped," Sean says awkwardly. "He's better at it than I am, anyway."

"He wouldn't even know if you hadn't told him," Karen says. "Accept the compliment, Sean." 

"You normally have no problems with that," Randi says from Karen's other side, giving him a smirky smile that reminds him painfully of Mark. 

"Thanks," he says to Randi dryly. "And thank you," he adds, much more sincerely. "He's my friend."

"I'm just glad to know that he has people to look after him," Karen says, voice becoming choked. "He's so far away from the rest of us and I worry about him, especially after that _awful_ boyfriend of his." 

"You didn't like him either?" Sean asks eagerly. "I may or may not have punched him in the face."

"Good," Arielle says, looking up from the magazine she's reading. "I would have, only I live on the other side of the country."

"But he has you and Eduardo and Chris and Dustin," Karen continues, ignoring them. "It makes me feel so much better to know that there are people who love and care about him."

Sean had never really thought about it that way. He's an only child himself, but he does like looking after Mark the same way he would a younger brother. "Yeah," he says. "He has that."

Karen pats his shoulder and opens up her water bottle. Sean leans back and drinks his coffee. After a moment, he glances at the clock. It's only been one hour. He sighs and slumps down against the wall. 

As the hours wear on, the nine of them draw closer together until they're sitting in a tight ring, having dragged the chairs close together. Dustin has put away his laptop and Chris has already finished his book, and they sit in tense, awful silence, fidgeting and looking towards the clock.

Then Dustin speaks suddenly, his voice quiet and a little shaky. "The first time I met Mark, he told me he was sure that he was smarter than me, but he was willing to put up with me provided I never touched his computers."

Sean snorts involuntarily. Chris smiles a little and says, "He told me that my major was a waste of my time and intelligence."

"We tried to raise him better than that," Karen says wryly. 

"He was used to being the smartest person in every room," Randi says, patting her mother's arm. "I mean, he still is, but I think he knows now that he isn't good at everything."

"Took him long enough," says Donna. 

Sean smiles and says, "I shouldn't tell you guys about this, but –" and he launches into a story about an investor meeting he had gone to with Mark, which had ended in Mark getting wine thrown in his face and being unceremoniously thrown out of a hotel in downtown San Francisco. 

Arielle laughs herself sick at that and laughingly retells the story of Mark's crusade against his high school English teacher, which had fortunately ended when he had changed schools, and Eduardo chips in with a similar story about Mark's semester-long feud with one of his CS professors. 

Around hour four, the stories turn more nostalgic. Eduardo, who is visibly exhausted, sleepily tells them how he met Mark – Sean wants to laugh, because the whole "eyes meet across a crowded frat party" thing sounds like it was ripped right out of a terrible teen novel – and Randi talks about Mark coming out to visit for her son's birth, losing her composure for the first time. 

The stories wind down around hour five, and they sit together in silence again. This time, though, it's more comfortable, a little more relaxed. Sean sits back in his seat and hopes that Mark knows how much they all love him. 

It's been a little over six hours since Mark went into surgery when the surgeon comes out, her mask lowered. She comes over to them and gestures for them to stay seated. 

"There were a few complications during the surgery," she says quietly, and they all go deathly quiet and still. "Nothing too serious, fortunately, though the bone degradation was worse than we thought. He may have to use a cane for a while once he's home. But he's stable now and we've removed the mass –"

"He's all right?" Eduardo bursts out. "He's not – he's all right?"

"Yes," the doctor says. "He'll have to go through radiation just to catch any last cancerous cells and he will need physical therapy but, yes. He's going to be fine." 

Eduardo covers his eyes and Karen starts crying, turning to bury her face in her husband's shoulder. Dustin lets out a whoop that he immediately stifles with a guilty expression and pulls Chris into a hug. Sean sits back in his seat, blinking at the wall, and feels like he can breathe again for the first time in months. Mark is going to be all right. He's _going to be all right_.

Once they've settled down, the doctor smiles at them all and says, "He's still recovering from the anesthesia and the surgery. He won't be well enough to receive visitors until tomorrow. I would suggest you all go home and get some rest. We'll call you right away if anything changes."

Eduardo meets Sean's eyes and Sean knows that Eduardo, like him, has no intention of leaving. Sean looks at the Zuckerbergs, who are holding a whispered discussion, and then looks up at the doctor. "How late can we stay?"

"Until eight, but you really should go home and eat and sleep," the doctor says. She smiles a little. "I _am_ a doctor, you know. You should listen to me."

Sean can tell that she's going to wait until they leave, so he gets to his feet and says, "Let's go get real food."

Eduardo is the last one to get to his feet, and he only does because Karen holds out her hand and says, "Come on, Eduardo, Mark wouldn't want you to just wait around."

Eduardo looks back over his shoulder in the direction of the operating rooms and bites his lip. Sean hits Eduardo's shoulder and says, "Stop, he's fine, the doctor said so."

"I know," Eduardo says. "But I promised him I'd be there when he woke up."

Sean sighs and drags Eduardo out of the waiting room, deciding it's better than waiting for him. "Mark knows you would be there if you could."

Eduardo gives him a look that is probably meant to be scathing, but his visible exhaustion weakens it somewhat. "I _can_ be there, though."

"We'll come back after we eat," Sean says, knowing that Eduardo will probably start to fade as soon as he's eaten properly. 

He's right, too; Eduardo starts to nod over his pie, which makes Sean smirk and Karen smile fondly, and Sean ends up having to drive him back to Mark's house. He deposits Eduardo on the couch, hesitates, then pulls the letter Mark had given him out of his pocket. He sets it on Eduardo's stomach, stops in the kitchen to feed Beast, and then leaves for Amy's apartment. 

The first words out of her mouth when she opens the door is, "How is he?"

"He's going to be fine," Sean says, and for the first time he really _feels_ it, all the way to his toes. "He's fine, he's going to survive," and he pitches forward into Amy's arms, hugging her so tightly that she squeaks, and he starts to laugh, loud and delighted. "He's going to be fine."

 

Eduardo sleeps for nearly six hours, completely exhausted from stress and lack of sleep, and when he wakes up, it's past ten p.m. He sits up, rubbing his head, and frowns as a piece of paper slides off him and falls on the floor. 

He picks it up and reads _Eduardo_ written in Mark's slightly messy handwriting and his chest seizes up. He unfolds it quickly and sees _Dear Eduardo_ at the top. He stops reading there and gets up to go make himself a mug of tea in the kitchen. Beast is still awake and rubs against his ankle as he sets the kettle to boil. Eduardo scratches Beast's ear, the letter still clenched tightly in his other hand. 

When his tea is ready, he sits down at the kitchen table and unfolds the paper again, hands trembling. 

_Dear Eduardo,_

_I tried for a long time to figure out what I wanted you to know in the event that something happened to me. There's a lot I feel like I should have said, and I'm hoping that I'll have the chance to say these things in person, but this letter is in case that chance is gone._

_I wish things had turned out differently with the two of us, back at Harvard. I didn't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you, and I hate that I did. You were my best friend and I should have treated you better. But I wouldn't trade this – what we have now – for that. I never said it out loud, and I should have – I love you, Eduardo, so much. Before you came back, I had forgotten that I still had things to live for. Maybe it would have been easier to face this surgery if I didn't have something I so desperately want to keep a hold of, but I don't regret it. I can't. I've always needed you, more than you know._

_I wrote my will a while back, not long after I found out about the cancer, and I couldn't figure out what I wanted to give you. I still feel like there isn't anything that can really show you how much I care about you, but I want you to take care of Beast for me. You'll take good care of him, I know it._

_And keep an eye on Sean. I know the two of you aren't exactly friends, but he's my best friend, I guess, and you're my boyfriend. If that's the word to describe us. Anyway, you two have stuff in common now, so maybe you'll be able to be friends for my sake._

_Because I didn't say it when I had the chance, I'll say it again: I love you._

_Mark_

Eduardo reads the letter three times before he's able to put it down and drink his now-cold tea. He drains it, then sets the mug down heavily on the table. He traces his fingers over the last line and imagines Mark in the hospital, lying alone in his room, waking up alone, and has to swallow hard against the bitter taste in his throat. 

He never told Mark he loved him, he realizes, and he wishes he had, just once. He wants Mark to know that, wishes Mark had known that when he had gone in to surgery. 

Eduardo reads the letter a fourth time, then folds it up carefully and puts it in his pocket. He gets up and goes to find his phone. 

Sean picks up on the third ring, sounding panicked. "What? What happened?"

"Nothing," Eduardo says. "I just – I need your help."

 

They sit outside the hospital for ten minutes without saying anything, watching for people to go in and out. Sean won't stop drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, which Eduardo finds irritating, but since Sean is helping him out, he isn't going to complain. 

"All right," Sean says eventually. "I think our best bet is to get you in through the emergency entrance. I'll distract the nurse while you sneak back. Do you know what room he's in?"

"No," Eduardo says. 

"Okay, well, I'll get that out of her. Put your phone on vibrate, I'll text it to you." Sean adjusts his blazer, looking like he's about to break into a vault rather than a hospital. "You'll have to keep out of sight of any doctors, you know that, right?"

Eduardo rolls his eyes. "Yes, I know."

"Just checking, I don't know how much delinquency you've participated in before." Sean opens the car door and gestures Eduardo out. "I'll beckon when she's distracted."

Eduardo watches from outside with some amusement as Sean sidles up to the unsuspecting nurse behind the emergency counter. He talks to her for a maybe a minute before they're bent over the computer together. Sean gestures behind his back and Eduardo slips through the door, moving as quietly as he can. 

He makes it past into the main hospital and follows the signs to recovery. He has to duck out of the way into bathrooms or closets a couple of times to avoid nurses, but he makes it up to the second floor without being stopped. 

His phone buzzes and when he looks at it, it reads, _Room 231_. Eduardo looks up and heads off in that direction. 

There's a nurse's station right next to Mark's room. The nurse is reading a book, but she seems alert enough. Eduardo thinks for a moment, then texts Sean, _See if you can call that nurse's station_.

He waits out of sight for a moment or two, and then the phone rings. The nurse turns to answer it and Eduardo lunges for Mark's door, slipping inside as quickly as possible and closing the door gently behind him. He peeks out the little window, but the nurse doesn't seem to have noticed anything. 

Eduardo turns and moves further into the room. Mark is fast asleep on the bed, but the machines he's hooked up to are beeping steadily and he looks fine. Eduardo approaches the bed and reaches out to touch Mark's cheek gently. "God, Mark," he says quietly. 

Mark doesn't stir. Eduardo sits on the edge of Mark's bed and laces their fingers together. He stares at Mark's face, just barely illuminated by the light coming in through the window, and whispers, "I wish you had told me before." He leans down and kisses him, feeling a little silly. "I love you too."

His phone buzzes. _Did you make it in?_

 _Yes_ , he sends back. _I owe you_.

He takes off his jacket and folds it over the chair before climbing onto the hospital bed next to Mark. He settles against him and closes his eyes, breathing out slowly. 

 

Mark wakes up feeling strangely warm and pleasantly vague. The room comes into focus slowly as feeling returns to his limbs. The first thing he notices is that it's light outside. The second thing he notices is that there's someone lying on his arm. It takes him a couple of moments to process that one fully, and then he turns his head to look and sees Eduardo's head pillowed on his shoulder, one hand splayed out on Mark's chest. He's curled up along Mark's side, still fully dressed, and his brow is furrowed in an unhappy frown. Clumsily, Mark reaches up with his other hand, trying carefully not to dislodge the IV, and tries to smooth the wrinkled skin with his thumb. 

Eduardo comes awake with a jerk, and he stares at Mark in amazement for a moment before saying, "Oh, thank god," and he buries his face back in Mark's shoulder, shaking. Mark clumsily pats at Eduardo's back.

"Wardo," Mark croaks. He tries to clear his throat with limited success and says again, " _Wardo_."

Eduardo looks up, his eyes shiny and pink around the edges. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing here?" Mark asks. "I thought they would send you home after a while."

"They did," Eduardo says. He reaches up and cups Mark's jaw with a shaky hand. His fingers are cold, but Mark turns into them anyway, closing his eyes briefly. "But I promised I would be here when you woke up."

"Oh. Okay." Mark turns his face so he can kiss Eduardo lightly. "Hi."

"Hey," Eduardo says, smiling. He looks tired, but his smile is so wide that it lights up his face and Mark is so glad to see him that he can't stop grinning. "You look terrible."

"Thanks." Mark tries to shift Eduardo into his arms and fails. "You're not looking great yourself."

"I couldn't stop worrying," Eduardo says. "Not until I saw you."

Mark doesn't know what to say to that, so instead he links his fingers with Eduardo's and squeezes weakly. Eduardo tucks his face into Mark's shoulder for a moment. Mark bites his lower lip and blinks hard. 

"I'm going to make you pancakes," Mark says nonsensically, already feeling drowsy again. "I learned to make pancakes, did I tell you that?"

"No," Eduardo says. "There's so much you need to tell me." He kisses Mark's cheek, then the corner of his mouth. "I love you too, you know."

It takes Mark a long minute to realize what he's talking about, and then he says grumpily, "Sean was only supposed to give you that letter if something happened to me."

"Don't get too angry with him," Eduardo says. "He helped me sneak in here after visiting hours were over."

Mark smiles. "I keep telling you he isn't so bad."

"Yeah, whatever," Eduardo says.

They lapse into comfortable silence for a moment or two. Then Mark says, unable to stop himself, "Please don't go back to Singapore."

Eduardo jerks and looks at Mark. "Of course not. You're never getting rid of me now, you know that, right?"

"Great," Mark says with as much sarcasm as he can muster.

Eduardo snorts and says, "You're such an asshole," but he sounds fond. He presses his lips to Mark's, and Mark opens his mouth for a slow, languid kiss. 

He has to break away when he feels the bizarre sensation of himself peeing through the catheter. "I'm peeing," he says, and Eduardo starts laughing against Mark's mouth.

"I'm so glad you're all right," Eduardo says, and he lies back down next to Mark until a doctor comes in and shoos him out. 

 

**Four Months Later**

Pancakes have become an unofficial tradition for special occasions, first with Mark imperiously directing Eduardo from the wheelchair he had only accepted under protest, and then eventually with Eduardo hovering over Mark to keep him from falling. Now Mark is mostly able to stand up and walk without assistance, although he still has a cane that he uses reluctantly. Eduardo is in charge of keeping Beast, who has gotten alarmingly big, from charging Mark and knocking him over, which has nearly happened more than once. 

Today, Mark is feeling a little festive, so he has pulled out one of Hazel's recipes and added bananas and chocolate chips to the pancakes. It smells good, so he thinks he's doing all right. 

Mark flips the pancake over as Eduardo comes into the kitchen, his tie loose around his neck. "Mark," Eduardo says, sounding exasperated. "We have to leave in an hour."

"Yes," Mark agrees unconcernedly. "We have plenty of time."

"You're not even dressed," says Eduardo. He comes over and kisses Mark on the cheek before tugging lightly on the string of Mark's sweatpants. "You need to get ready. It's going to take you a little while."

"Pancakes first," Mark says firmly. He presses the spatula down on the pancake and listens to it sizzle. "It isn't that far away."

"I want to be there early," Eduardo says, leaning against the counter. "And we have to pick up Sean and Amy."

"Sean isn't going to be ready to go until five minutes before." Mark slides the pancake out of the pan onto the plate and wafts it under Eduardo's nose. "Don't they smell good?"

Eduardo looks conflicted, but he takes the plate. "They do," he admits. "Is this one of Hazel's recipes?"

"Yeah." Mark turns off the stove and picks up his own plate. Eduardo takes it from his hand and goes to sit at the table before helping Mark. Mark doesn't really need his assistance to walk anymore, but it seems to make Eduardo feel better, so he lets him. 

"Eat quickly," Eduardo says when Mark sits down. "This is a nice thing Chris did, moving his wedding out here so you wouldn't have to fly. We should at least be punctual."

"I know," Mark says. "We'll be on time. Relax a little." He turns his head and smiles up at Eduardo. "We have plenty of time."


End file.
